


mutually assured destruction

by Eyesofdoe



Series: m.a.d. verse [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-07-14 03:58:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16032509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyesofdoe/pseuds/Eyesofdoe
Summary: And it’s not like Eddie has a crush on Richie, because he doesn’t.





	1. i might like you better if we slept together

Eddie and Richie have been roommates for about a month when it happens for the first time, and Eddie can’t really say he’s surprised. He finds Richie attractive, has since he walked into their dorm the first time to see him tying a bag from CVS over their smoke detector.

“Why are you doing that?” Eddie had asked, earning him a casual shrug in return.

“To smoke.” Richie had answered, no question about it.

There had been an awkward silence to follow, but Richie had been the one to finally break it.

“I set it off last year a couple times and just burnt popcorn to cover it up, but it’s a very high-stress situation to be in.”

A month later and he has yet to see Richie actually smoke, but he’s found plenty of evidence of it happening. A distinct smell in the room, an ashtray left out on the windowsill, even people stumbling out of the room right before he goes in, looking dazed and giggling all the while, Richie hot on their heels with a characteristic smile on his face.

“Where are you going?” He’d called after, only once.

“We’re gonna get our instruments and go play on the roof of Astor.” Richie answered, laughing already. “Cops don’t make rounds until midnight, so we have an hour of sweet, sweet jazz.”

Eddie declined to mention that campus safety might come out a little earlier if there were reports of band kids climbing onto the nicest building on campus, trumpets in hand. Miraculously, Richie made it back that night without any incident. But he seemed lucky that way, never getting in trouble, and talking himself out of tricky situations.

They’d been late to class, once. They have a chemistry class that they both attend, and neither of their alarms had gone off. Eddie had ended up marked tardy while Richie got out scot-free, despite every aspect of their situation being the same.

“I’m good with people, sometimes.” Richie had said, waving off Eddie’s fury. “You just have to learn to say what they want to hear.”

Which was an undeniable point. For the most part, despite how he could often be insensitive, borderline offensive, Richie was good with people. He’d become fast friends with Eddie despite the fundamental differences in their personalities.

So, it’s mid-September, and Eddie is marvelling at how the leaves have changed on campus, how beautiful the changing seasons can be, as he walks back to his dorm. Richie is by his side, walking back from their afternoon chem lab.

“It’s just such a waste of time.” Eddie complains. “Making us measure water to figure out how to use the equipment or whatever. How stupid does she think we are?“

“It _is_ like, gen chem. For idiots. Majors aren’t even allowed to take this class. So...she has good reason to think we’re pretty stupid.” Richie shrugs. “We chose our own fate. Besides, i’m kind of glad. I’ve never used a buret before, and it means an easy grade.”

“I just...making us wear goggles was stupid, am I at least right in that regard?”

“I will give you that one, although I’m sure I could find an argument if I tried.”

“Are you hungry?”

“A little. If you want to head home I can pick up some Panera. Just Venmo me.”

Eddie was going to suggest the dining hall, saving a little money for once, but the idea of hot soup on a chilly day is tempting. Irresistibly so, as he finds himself pulling out his phone.

“Just a bowl of tomato soup.” Eddie says, debating. “And a dinner roll.”

“You got it. I expect some dessert in return.”

Eddie starts to argue, citing the fact they haven’t been to the grocery store in weeks, but Richie just winks obnoxiously, establishing that it was clearly a joke about sex. Eddie needs the clarification, occasionally, and now he’s short-circuiting.

Richie veers off after that, long legs bound towards the Panera around the corner.

Eddie’s mind is all over the place. Richie’s constantly acting like this, making jokes about sex, sex _with_ Eddie, and it’s like...Eddie knows that Richie is a sexual being. He’s been kicked out of their room twice already so that Richie can engage in some sort of sexual act, so he knows. But in a way it’s like it makes it worse.

The first time, it had been a girl, wearing a flannel dress and a nose ring, carrying a big instrument case in with her. They’d come to practice, but had only done so for about ten minutes before Richie was waving Eddie out of the room. And after that, Eddie had felt sort of at ease, knowing that Richie was straight. That meant it would never happen, he could stop taking the jokes so literally, quit being so embarrassed. Richie wasn’t flirting with him, he was just making stupid straight guy jokes about sleeping with his friends.

And then he’d come back with a guy in Eddie’s philosophy class, one that Eddie himself found fairly attractive, and it had been a shock to his whole system whenever Richie looked at him with pleading eyes, message clear as the guy climbed up into Richie’s bed. And that thought was and is dizzying, the idea that Richie is fucking guys, so when he hits on Eddie, it could be based in truth.

And it’s not like he has a crush on Richie, because he doesn’t. He thinks he’s the epitome of human disaster, the kind of person who’s always late or dressed inappropriately or playing trumpet in the middle of the night for the whole hall to hear and hate him. But he also is a little bit attracted to him, regardless of this. It’s not his personality, it’s his height and his dark hair and everything else about him that makes him exactly Eddie’s (physical) type.

It’s the fact that he’s seen him nearly fully naked, and struggles to avert his eyes because all he wants is to just keep _looking._ And here he is, having a whole crisis over whether or not he’s a creep just because Richie made some stupid joke and went to buy him soup.

But Richie knows that he is gay, and Eddie knows (at least to some degree) that Richie finds him attractive, too. Richie may be funny and hot enough to talk people into bed, but he isn’t subtle. Eddie’s seen him looking, face betraying him every time when Eddie turns around to catch him staring at his ass. Richie’s just like that, not shameless, but stupid, unaware that he’s openly being such a perv.

It’s something that would make Eddie hate most people, but he knows that Richie doesn’t mean anything by it, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on a little. And he can’t exactly take issue with it, not when he’s just as entranced by Richie’s bare back and chest hair.

Richie clambers into the dorm about ten minutes after Eddie, soup containers stacked on top of each other. He’s shocked that he hasn’t dropped them, it’s an unusual display of grace by a boy who’s all limb.

“Soup delivery!” Richie yells, seemingly unaware that the room is barely 175 square feet. He sits the containers on Eddie’s desk.

“Thank you.” Eddie says. In the walk from McCollumn to Astor, he not only became freezing cold, but also viciously hungry.

“No problem. How will you be paying us today?” Richie asks, and Eddie knows what’s coming next, but it’s still going to take his breath away after his Walk of Impure Thoughts.

“You don’t have any money?” Richie asks, as if they’re having a conversation. “I guess we’ll just have to find some other way for you to pay.”

He takes a step forward, mimes pulling Eddie in by the hips, and then before he can really think about it, Eddie lunges forward and kisses him.

Call it impulse, call it stupidity, he doesn’t know. But after thinking about Richie _like that_ for the last ten minutes, it’s like he can’t hold back. So he doesn’t.

Richie kisses back, at first, and it’s hot. Sloppy and undeniably Richie-like, but hot. Eddie’s already getting hard, and he’s a little embarrassed about it, but it’s been a while. And then as soon as it starts, Richie shoves him away.

“Too far, Edward.” He says. “There is such a thing in comedy.”

“Maybe you just aren’t that funny.”

“That was uncalled for, you little fuck.” Richie says, unsmiling, and then he kisses Eddie.

Richie’s sensitive. Eddie knows this because every time he tries to tease him back, Richie retreats. Out of consideration and a desire to have a suitable roommate relationship, he’s backed off every time. But now it’s showing again, through the kiss. Eddie’s comment must have really gotten to him, because he’s sucking on his lip like he wants him to hurt.

Eddie responds appropriately, twisting his hands in Richie’s hair until he feels himself nearly pull them apart. It’s so good, finally fulfilling this impulse, and Eddie feels a deep satisfaction layered beneath an all-consuming want.

“Funny enough for you?” Richie asks, stepping away and redirecting his attention to the food on the desk. He takes his own, collapsing onto his bed. Eddie hates it when he eats there, thinks of Richie sleeping on top of crumbs and wrappers, but he’s preoccupied enough that he doesn’t scold him for it.

“Hilarious.” Eddie says, but he’s breathing hard, too affected by something Richie is calling a joke.

They eat in silence, a rarity in the Kaspbrak-Tozier dorm space. When Richie isn’t talking, Eddie’s usually complaining. About classes, people, life in general. They’re pretty close, even if they don’t interact much outside of the dorm. Richie has his music friends and the com department, Eddie hangs out mostly with other kids in the humanities. Eddie’s just hoping that they’re either close or not close enough that this impromptu makeout session (That was his! Fault!) will not ruin whatever dynamic they have going on in the room.

Eddie’s just about to work up the courage to bring it up when Richie’s out the door, trumpet case in hand, footfalls heavy down the hallway.

He calls Bill immediately, one of their few mutual friends, English major and piano player. (With the bonus of being from Richie’s hometown.)They’re getting coffee. Eddie’s going to ask for his advice, and everything will be fine.

* * *

 

“Dude, you’re _fucked_ .” Bill says, and it’s definitely not the reassurance he was looking for. “Things are absolutely not going to be the same after this. Also, out of everyone you know at this school, why would you make out with _Richie_?”

“I didn’t think about it!” Eddie protests, although Bill does have a point. Eddie has had plenty of impulses to make out with people. Guys he’s studying with, guys he has classes with, even of making out with Bill, and yet he’s showing restraint on that front.

“You can’t accidentally make out with someone, you dumb fuck.” Bill says, shaking his head. “I’m glad I’m hearing it from you first, because if Richie told me about it, I wouldn’t believe him.”

Eddie just groans, putting his face down on the table, coffee stains and germs be damned.

“Do you like... _like_ him?” Bill asks.

“No!” Eddie spits before he’s even finished the question. “I just...think he’s hot. And I let my thoughts run away with me.”

“Richie is not hot.”

“Says the straight guy.”

“Says the straight guy _with eyes._ Richie’s...Richie.”

“Yes, he is Richie, but he is also about five inches taller than me, pretty hairy, and has a great back! Which is exactly my type!”

“You just described at least half the guys at this school, Eddie. All you had to do was download Tinder and slap that in the bio. You’re cute and guys are _so_ horny. This was completely preventable.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“Careful, I don’t want you to make out with me too.”

“Shut the fuck up! Can I have real advice, please?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. So, on the downlow, Richie thinks you’re hot. Repressed and boring and a little annoying sometimes, but hot.”

“He _told_ you that?”

“I’m sure you’ve complained about Richie. About how he’s messy or he keeps you up at night or he’s a little bitch when you joke with him. People complain about their roommates. It’s a national pastime.” Bill says. “But that wasn’t my point. My point is that he’s obviously attracted to you, but probably not into you. So maybe things won’t be weird.”

“‘Maybe’ is so reassuring, thank you Bill.”

“I’m doing my best here. _Anyway,_ you’re just going to have to talk to him about it. I know you don’t want to, but...it’s really your only option.”

“He stormed out after we ate dinner, so I didn’t get a chance.”

“Jazz band rehearses tonight.” Bill shrugs. “So he should be back in an hour or so. That’s good, it gives you time to make a plan of attack.”

They spend their remaining time going through the conversation, and Eddie is immensely grateful for Bill’s friendship. Toward the end, it shifts back to more casual talk, and Bill is confiding in him.

“I really like this girl. She’s in my poetry class and she’s really gorgeous, but she’s always with this other guy. I can tell he likes her but I don’t think they’re dating. Is it ethical to make my move?”

“Maybe not ethical, but you don’t have to take the bullet for him. If you ask her out and she says yes then she obviously isn’t into this other guy. You’re doing him a favor, really.”

“Good points, Kaspbrak.” Bill says, checking his watch. “If you want to be back before Richie, I’d head back now.”

Eddie nods and gets up from the table without a goodbye.

“Go get your man!” Bill calls after him as he walks out, and he rolls his eyes.

* * *

He’s in the room for about fifteen minutes when the door swings open, and Richie looks furious.

“Dr. Timms is such a fucking _idiot._ ” He groans, letting the door slam behind him. “He expects me to learn a solo overnight, I miss like two notes and it’s the end of the fucking world.”

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, forgetting about the conversation supposed to be taking place right now.

“I will be once I go practice, I guess. I’m doing my fucking best, I’m a sophomore, it’s ridiculous to expect me to be on level with a bunch of seniors. Jazz band _sucks._ I used to love it but Timms is _killing_ me. He has no idea what he’s talking about.”

Eddie doesn’t point out that the man has at least a doctorate in music, so he probably does kind of know what he’s talking about.

“I _hate_ him.” Richie huffs, pouting like a little kid. “I might as well just drop the fucking minor, it’s not like it’s useful anyway. Com major with a music minor, what can I even do with that anyway?”

“I’m sure there’s-”

“Can you shut _up_ ?” Richie demands, slinging his backpack onto the floor by his desk. “It’s not like you’ve made my day any better with your _display_ earlier.”

“What is your problem?” Eddie asks, all sympathy gone. Now he’s just angry.

Richie takes a step closer. Eddie’s sitting at his own desk, had been trying to do some philosophy homework to take his mind off things.

“My problem is that today has been one of the most stressful days of my life, thanks to a certain roommate who can’t keep his hands to himself, and also to my jerkoff jazz band professor.” Richie’s in his face, laughing humorlessly, and it’s something that Eddie is actually a little scared of. He never thought of Richie as someone who could be scary, but he has five extra inches, and he apparently knows how to use them. It doesn’t help that he’s sitting and Richie’s standing, looking down at him like the world’s biggest disappointment.

“I don’t think that I’m the primary issue in your life.” Eddie says, and it comes out a shaky whisper instead of strong and confident like he’d hoped for. “Don’t pin your stress on me. It’s not my fault you couldn’t play a solo.”

Richie’s eyes narrow. He opens his mouth to respond, but seems to think better of it. Instead, he lunges forward, taking Eddie’s face in his hands and kissing him hard.

This isn’t exactly the resolution Eddie had in mind, but he decides he’ll take it.

Richie’s vicious, shoving his tongue down Eddie’s throat as if it’s his uvula that’s wronged him. His hands are tight on Eddie’s cheeks, holding him there as he kisses him. After a minute of this, Eddie stands, making it a little easier for Richie to reach his mouth. His hands are on Richie’s back, nails digging into his shoulders. Richie’s grip on his face loosens, and it takes on a more fluid motion. More mutual, less aggressive. Eddie’s heart is beating so fast, he feels like something may actually be wrong in the health department. But he can’t stop, just keeps licking into Richie’s mouth.

Richie is the one to break it, again, stepping back and laughing when Eddie nearly falls into him again.

“Maybe it is your fault that I can’t play my solo when I’m busy thinking about whether or not my roommate and I are ever going to fucking speak again.” Richie says, still sounding a little angry, but significantly less so.

“I made a mistake, earlier. I jumped on an impulse.”

“Eddie Kaspbrak having impulses to kiss me! What a wild world we live in.”

“Okay, well it’s never happening again, so. Please forget about it at your convenience. I satisfied an urge. End of.”

“So you don’t have a crush on me or anything?”

“God,  _ no. _ ”

“Good, good. That’s a conversation I wasn’t looking forward to.”

Both the discussion and the kissing end there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? starting a new fic without finishing any of my old ones? interesting.  
> warning: richie and eddie are both kind of mean in this. it be that way. people are complex and they have flaws. this is not a fic where they're both perfect sweet angels to each other and the people around them. college guys are college guys.  
> 


	2. you are my favorite "what if"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie walked in on day one and Richie knew it was going to be an issue.

A typical day in the life of Richie Tozier proceeds as follows:

  1. Wake up and go to class.
  2. Think about fucking your roommate
  3. Eat copious amounts of mac and cheese
  4. Mac and cheese sounds like good pussy, think about fucking your roommate
  5. Practice/go to rehearsal/serve your time in the music building
  6. Frack your trumpet hard because you’re thinking about _fucking_ your _roommate_



Items 2, 4, and 6 used to only occur once a day, if that. But ever since Eddie Kaspbrak flew off the handle and into Richie’s arms, it’s been incessant. The list does not cover items 7-1000, which all involve thinking about performing sexual acts with Eddie. He keeps having gross dreams about him, and none of this was part of the plan.

Eddie walked in on day one and Richie knew it was going to be an issue. So he avoided him as much as possible, at first, only seeing him in the room or in chem class. And then they got closer, and Richie discovered that Eddie is annoying as  _ fuck  _ when he wants to be (which is usually) and also a little mean, and those character flaws effectively tamped down Richie’s desire.

Tamped it down, that is, until Eddie made out with him over some sweet fucking chicken noodle from Panera, got pissed, and made out with him  _ again.  _

And now he’s back where he started, thinking of Eddie constantly, his lips, his body, his fucking  _ ass,  _ specifically, thinking about what it could be like if Eddie would just loosen up and let him split those cheeks. He’s disgusted by his own thoughts, but it’s hard to live with someone you’re attracted to, especially when you recently discovered what their mouth tastes like.

Things have been a little strained. Every time Eddie gets closer than normal, Richie starts to think they’re going to kiss again, and he’s been wrong every single time. In chemistry, their legs brush and he gets turned on, like he’s developed some kind of pavlovian response to Eddie’s skin. He rushes to lunch after class before Eddie can ask if he wants to make plans, ditching his daily macaroni to see if Bill is in the dining hall. He is, and sitting with Stan, no less, Richie’s favorite flirtation pre-Eddie makeout session.

“I need some advice.” Richie says when he sits down, plate loaded up with mediocre food.

“Eddie made out with you and you don’t know what to do?” Bill prompts, and Richie sighs.

“He told you?”

“He asked me for advice while you were at jazz rehearsal.”

“I hate him.”

“Do you?”

“No, but you’re my childhood best friend, so I’m a little annoyed he chose you to confide in.”

“Who’s Eddie?” Stan asks.

“My roommate.” Richie says at the same time Bill says “The kid who always talks about gay subtext in our English class.”

“He’s nice.” Stan comments.

“Not as nice as you are, my beautiful-”

“Shut up, Richie. We all know you made out with Eddie, so you can stop hitting on Stan now.”

“Made out with Eddie twice, thank you very much.”

“Twice?”

“Got back from jazz band yesterday, was angry, channeled it into sexual frustration, took it out on Eddie’s mouth.” 

“I haven’t talked to him yet today. Is he okay?”

“Probably. He got hard yesterday from us kissing for like, half a second, so I’m sure last night  _ really  _ got him riled up.”

“Stop.” Bill says. “Now. That’s personal. And not even personal for you, but for Eddie. This is different than when you tell me about some chick in wind ensemble that you somehow manage to con into sleeping with you. This is a mutual friend of ours, who we are labeling permanently as a person with feelings.”

“Jessifer was also a person with feelings.”

“Which is why you can’t remember if her name was Jessica or Jennifer.”

“My god, you are a douchebag.” Stan says. “The rumors are true. And to think I almost slept with you at orientation.”

Richie blanks, system failure, blue screen. “I’ll always remember  _ your _ name, Stan, baby. Help me work Eddie Kaspbrak out of my system?” He reaches for Stan’s hand across the table, and Stan pulls it away, laughing.

“Don’t worry. You ruined it the second you opened your mouth, not just now.”

“I haven’t gotten any complaints, if you just want to do it once.”

“Richie,  _ focus. _ ” Bill huffs. “You are despicable. Anyway, what is the problem here? Clearly you liked what happened with Eddie.”

“I don’t know if it will happen again. And I, lowest of keys, want it to happen again.”

“You like him.”

“I do not. I think he’s hot. As I’ve said before, sexy doesn’t make up for boring, rude, irritating, doesn’t smoke weed and gets mad when he smells it in the room.”

“I’m glad that last thing is a whole separate category for you, you fucking stoner.” Bill says, rolling his eyes. “So why not just fuck someone else? Get over it?”

“Not the same. I live with Eddie, so it’s convenient. Also, he has the best ass on campus.” Richie pauses. “Besides you, Stan. I could always use a closer look, though, strictly for rating purposes. Pants off of course.”

“Stop!” Stan is laughing, but Bill looks horrified.

“Don’t fall for it.” Bill groans. “You’re laughing, so I feel like you’re falling for it. This is how it starts. ‘Oh haha Richie, I won’t sleep with you, but you’re  _ so  _ funny!’ and next thing you know you’re covered in bucktooth hickies and crying about a guy who considers marijuana a food group.”

“I am hurt, shocked, and offended.”

“Hurt and offended are the same thing, dumbass.”

“ _ Anyway,  _ as I was saying before Bill  _ attacked  _ me, Eddie is different. I don’t have a crush on him, it’s just like...he’s untouchable, almost. My first thought looking at Eddie was like,  _ whoa, sexy,  _ and then I accepted I’d never have him and I didn’t really want it anymore anyway. But now the possibility is there, and I have a very, very specific itch to scratch.”

“Classic case study of wanting what you can’t have.”

“Except now I know I can have him.”

“So just...do have him?” Stan speaks up. 

“Wise words, Stanley.” Bill snorts. “Do have him.”

“I’m serious!” Stan says. “If you want it, and he wants it, why aren’t you doing it?”

“He said it would never happen again.”

“So talk to him. Maybe he just said that because he felt weird.”

“I don’t want him to fall in love with me.”

“Only a fucking idiot would fall in love with you.” Bill says.

 

And with these words of encouragement, Richie goes to wind ensemble. Fortunately, he has no solos in wind ensemble. Unfortunately, he still manages to draw attention to himself by playing a whole ass song in the wrong key.

“What has gotten into you this last week?” Dr. Pollard asks after class, and it’s not the same as disappointing Dr. Timms. He cares what Pollard has to say. She’s the one that gave him his scholarship, did his interview for the music department, and helped him through financial aid. Timms is just some old fuck, Pollard is his lifeline at this school.

“I’m having some personal issues.” Richie says. It sounds like a lame excuse, because it is, but he can’t think with everything going on. He’s been practicing just as much, if not more, stealing away to practice rooms for time away from Eddie.

“Anything you need to talk about?” Dr. Pollard asks, lowering her voice. “Family stuff?”

Richie had fought with his mother about school what seems like eons ago. He’d gotten a full ride, but to his second choice. And then he got in at Cottonwood, his first choice, and Pollard had guided him through the process of convincing her it was the right decision.

“Uh...no. Just issues of the romantic variety. You know where being devastatingly handsome gets you in college.”

She laughs. “Whoever they are, they’re not worth it.”

“Believe me, I know. I’ve just had a hard time keeping it off my mind. The whole ordeal.”

“It’ll be okay, Richie. Practice and keep your mind on the music. Everything else will work out.”

“Thanks, Dr. Pollard.” Richie says, and she finally waves him off.

He exits the building to find Jessifer waiting on him outside.

“Do you want to get dinner?” She asks.

“Not really.” Richie says, and normally he’d be less of a dick, but she’s caught him on a bad day already. “I have a lot of homework to do.”

“Didn’t stop you the other night.” She smirks.

“I had less to do then. Look, I’m not interested in you like that. It was a one time thing and I thought that was clear. I need to get back to my dorm and get some shit done. If my current situation changes or you decide you’re cool with being just friends, I’ll go to dinner with you.” And he storms off, less than mature, but effective.

He grabs dinner on the way, eating at D-Hall twice and praising himself for saving money. When he gets back to the dorm, finally, Eddie is hunched over books on his bed, underlining and scribbling notes in the margins.

“You okay?” Richie asks.

“Essay due tomorrow for English. Have to prove that Nick was in love with Gatsby.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be reading that? We did it in eleventh grade.”

“Dr. Mathis says you’re never too old for a classic. And she also has a weird boner for Wilson, so. I have a feeling it’s self-indulgent.”

“Would you care for a break?”

“Maybe in like ten minutes. What were you thinking?”

“Milkshakes.” Richie says. “I’ll take a shower and when I get back we can go.”

“Sounds good.”

Richie jerks off in the shower, feeling disgusting but necessary, trying to keep himself from making any rash decisions on the Eddie front. Even he has shame, and the definition of it is beating your meat in a hall bathroom.

When he gets back, Eddie is all ready to go, dressed in joggers and plain white T-shirt, looking ready to fall into bed. Richie has to stop himself from pinning him into the mattress.

“I’m so excited for this.” Eddie says, following Richie out to the parking lot. “I haven’t been off campus at all this week.”

“I just need an Oreo shake or I might lose my mind.” Richie says.

They go through the drive through, and Eddie whines about never having been to Poplar Gap, a pretty mountain view where students like to watch the sunset, so Richie drives up there for them to drink them.

Eddie’s talking about constellations, naming them wrong, and Richie’s letting him. It’s not until he looks at him and sees cute little freckles lit up in the moonlight that he gets the overwhelming urge to fuck him again. He settles for kissing, because why not? If Eddie can jump him, he can jump him back.

Eddie doesn’t even try to protest when Richie leans in, just throws his arms around his neck and pulls him in closer. The shifter sits awkwardly between them, interfering in Eddie’s quest to bring them right up against each other.

“Maybe we should get in the backseat.” Eddie murmurs against Richie’s lips, and it’s so stupid. It’s all so stupid, so high school. They  _ live together,  _ have a mutual space to make out in. Richie’s twenty years old, rutting against somebody in the backseat of his car should be getting old right about now. But Eddie sounds so sweet about it, timid and borderline virginal, that Richie eats it the fuck up, clambering over the console to get back there. 

They both sit cross-legged, just staring for a second, but then they’re falling into each other again. Eddie slides into Richie’s lap, ankles hooked around the small of his back. Richie’s hands are on his shoulders, but he’s working them down to his ass. He finally,  _ finally  _ gets a handful after staring every time Eddie hasn’t been paying attention, and he audibly groans.

“Look so good in these pants.” Richie mutters against his lips. “So hot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie says, and Richie hates that. He can’t stand it when people don’t talk back, just agree, all high and breathy, like the inflection of a question mark gives it any originality.

So he presses on. “Yeah, baby, I want you.”

“I want you.” Eddie says, and that’s a little better, still not quite what he’s looking for.

“Do you?” Richie prompts.

“Will you take your shirt off?” Eddie asks, catching Richie off guard. He just nods and does it, anyway, dropping it onto the floorboard.

As soon as it’s gone, Eddie starts kissing his neck, his chest, sliding his fingers through Richie’s chest hair. He should have known, Eddie always gets a little weird when he’s shirtless, and Richie’s not exactly at the peak of human fitness.

“I love this.” Eddie says. “Love how hairy you are.”

And it’s the innocence of the comment, the fact that Eddie doesn’t even realize it could almost be an insult, that makes it so damn hot. 

Richie just shoves Eddie’s face back down into his chest. “Kiss me then.”

Eddie does, and he’s breathing so hard, so into this. Richie feels like he’s going to die here, straining against his gym shorts with Eddie buried in his chest hair.

It’s when Eddie stops and looks back into Richie’s eyes that he freaks. “Fuck, we have to stop. Fuck!”

“Why?” Richie asks lazily, but he’s already pulling his shirt back on. He knows that Eddie’s probably made up his mind.

“I have to finish my essay, and this...is going to get out of hand so fast if we keep doing it.”

“What’s the big deal?”

“If things go wrong, we have to live together.”

Richie doesn’t say anything, just climbs back up front and cranks the car. They drive most of the way back to campus in silence.

“Are you mad at me?” Eddie asks once they’re back at Astor, walking into the building and back to their room.

“A little.”

“Why?”

“You’re a fucking tease, Eddie! You’re making me do this will they, won’t they thing and I can’t deal with it.”

“Fine! Then we won’t!”

“All good with me.” Richie says, and he knows Eddie will back down in a couple of days.

“Forget it even happened.” Eddie huffs. He gathers up all his stuff and then he’s gone, likely to the library or Bill’s room or anywhere away from Richie.

“Have fun, sweet pea!” Richie calls after him.

Everything will be fine by tomorrow, though, he’s sure. Eddie will be back in his lap in no time. They always are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to pace myself here. i'm having a hard time w/ this next chapter, but it will hopefully be up by next week  
> 


	3. getting high & getting wrecked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s stressed from finals and angry with himself when he gets back to the dorm, and he chooses to blame that for the actions that proceed.

There’s a slow settle back into normal. Eddie pinches himself every time he catches himself thinking of Richie like that, trying to train himself to forget. He throws himself into his schoolwork, goes to GSA, and starts trying to hook up with a guy in his English class that peer-reviewed his Gatsby paper and called it genius. He and Richie are still lab partners, and obviously still roommates, but they’re not really friends anymore. They talk in the room sometimes, even hang out if Bill or Stan are involved, but for the most part, they avoid each other.

Eddie hadn’t expected it to get this bad, and he wishes he could take it back. The first time, the second time, and  _ definitely  _ the third time. He should have known better, should have taken it as a miracle when it didn’t change anything between them the first time and cut his losses there.

They don’t even really speak beyond polite hellos until Thanksgiving. And it’s not until finals that things start to go back to normal. They walk back from a chemistry study session together, strangely reminiscent of the day Eddie ruined everything, but now the trees are stripped bare of their leaves and the cold is more than just a chill, it’s in his bones.

“I think it’ll be easy.” Richie says. “All her tests have been easy so far. I doubt she’ll change it now.”

“Is it cumulative or no?”

“It is, but all of chem kind of just goes together, so...it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I hate cumulative finals.” Eddie says. 

“It’s kind of the whole point of a final, though. Teachers who don’t make them cumulative are just being nice. What do you have first?”

“Philosophy. It’s on Monday, so I’ve been studying my ass off. I don’t get it at all, but it’s fine. I asked this guy in my class for help, so I think we’re going to study later.”

They’re back at the room now, Richie unlocking the door and holding it for him while they talk.

“I have a jury on Tuesday, so that’s heavy on my mind right now. Plus a fuck ton of theory to learn before Friday. Which is such a shitty way to end the week.”

Eddie thinks about it for a hot second, how easy it would be, playing out in his head.

_ “Do you need something to take your mind off it?”  _

_ “Like what?” _

_ “Like me.” _

He pinches the skin on his thigh, hard, a sharp reminder to direct his mental attention somewhere else. It doesn’t have to work for very long, because Richie mumbles excuses about practicing and is out the door again.

Eddie can’t figure out if he really is just that busy or if it’s an excuse to get away from him. 

 

He’s stressed from finals and angry with himself when he gets back to the dorm, and he chooses to blame that for the actions that proceed. 

For the first time in the fourish months they’ve been living together, he walks in on Richie smoking. And he doesn’t throw a fit. The windows are open, he still has the bag over the smoke detector, and Eddie has too much academic stress to micromanage Richie’s habits right now.

“Hello darling.” Richie says. “How was studying?”

“I guess you wouldn’t know.”

“I got my studying done early. Thought it was time to wind down for the night.” Richie smiles.

Eddie’s always hated people who are super into weed. It consumes their whole personality, and he can’t stand how many people he watched change from motivated, productive members of society to morons who sit around waxing philosophical about the dumbest shit possible. He was president of SADD in high school, for God’s sake, wore the lame ass shirts like a badge of pride.

Richie’s exactly that kind of person. He unironically wears socks with marijuana leaves, walks around stinking of it, captions a good half of his Instagram pictures #legalizeit. It’s annoying, stupid, and (obviously) illegal. And Eddie can’t stand that the most, the recklessness it takes to casually partake in something that could get you arrested.

But on Richie, it’s kind of hot. Endearing, even. He doesn’t stop on Eddie’s account, and when he sucks in on the joint and blows the smoke out the window, Eddie feels something that his body has no right to subject him to.

“You want some?” Richie asks, clearly noticing that he’s paying attention. He’s smirking, like he knows what Eddie is going to say. He’s offered before, and Eddie’s always waved him off, citing childhood asthma (A half-truth) and a job that randomly drug tests (A whole lie). 

“Sure.” Eddie says, trying and failing to sound casual. He hears the quiver in his voice, and has never so badly wished that he could punch himself in the face.

“Whoa.” Richie says. “You sure?”

“I’m a grown adult. I can make my own decisions.”

“You sure? Because you seem to have made some pretty questionable ones lately, judging by how cold you’ve been.”

“Give it to me.”

 

Ten minutes later, he’s definitely high, laughing at Richie like he actually thinks he’s funny. Which he does  _ not.  _ He just suddenly can’t control the quirk of his lips, can’t tell how fast he’s talking, is practically melting into the carpet.

“You’re lucky I wanna fuck you.” Richie gripes. “Or else you wouldn’t be getting this for free.”

“That’s so sweet!” Eddie says, although he knows, at some base level, that he should be saying  _ fuck you please die. _

“I like you a lot better like this.” Richie comments, a big smile on his face. “Much nicer. Hotter, too, with your eyes all big like that.”

“You think I’m hot?”

“Why else would I put up with your bullshit?”

“You have to; I’m your roommate.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to be nice. I just want in your pants, Kaspbrak. Classic dude move. You’re sexy, even if I hate you sometimes.”

“Would you be nicer to me if I let you fuck me?”

“Probably not.”

Eddie doesn’t respond to that, and it’s silent for a few minutes as they both process the conversation. It’s definitely not the time for him to reopen things with Richie, but he’s feeling pretty bothered. Whether it’s Richie’s frank language or the weed, he can’t be sure. 

“You could anyway.” Eddie says, finally.

“No.” Richie says.

“I want to.”

“You want to right now. You’re high.”

“I want to always!”

“No, you don’t. If you ‘wanted to always’, we would’ve done it by now.”

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” He asks, hands on Richie’s chest, attempting to climb into his lap.

“Bedtime for you, Eddie.” Richie says, then snorts. “Beddie Eddie time.”

“Shut up.” Eddie says, but there’s no real heat behind it. He’s tired, suddenly, like he’s hit a wall. “Good night.”

He sleeps so deeply that he doesn’t remember dreaming.

Which is honestly a relief from all the sweaty Richie dreams he’s been having lately.

 

When Eddie wakes up, Richie is already up and around the room, making coffee and changing clothes. He’s almost upset to find out that weed isn’t like drinking, and he certainly remembers what happened last night, and he can not believe himself.

“I’m sorry about last night.” He says, no preamble. He deems it unnecessary, considering the circumstances.

“Don’t be.” Richie says. “Everyone says silly stuff. It was flattering, but I knew you didn’t mean it. I couldn’t take advantage of a maiden in such a state.”

“Thank you for that.”

“I’m not a monster.” Richie says, shrugging. “I like sex, but I only do it sober. It’s better for everyone involved. Besides, you didn’t get really sincere about it or anything. It’s not like you were begging.”

“I just-”

“Eddie, I mean this in the most polite way I can possibly say it. Please shut up about it. It doesn’t matter. I know your feelings haven’t changed. I’m not good enough for you, it’s not a big deal. I’m going to go to a study group for my theory class. Forget about last night. I know you didn’t mean it, believe me. I get it. You don’t have to give me a talk about it.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, and then Richie’s out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short and not the best. bear with me please  
> 


	4. we might as well just fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can we talk about everything that’s happened this semester?” Eddie asks, finally finishing his sentence.

Richie’s jury goes surprisingly well, and he’s riding high afterwards. It’s only day two of finals week, but he’s ready to defrost the freezer and go home for a little while. 

And get away from Eddie, at least for a month, so he can maybe clear his head and start acting like a normal person again. 

The ground is crunchy underneath his boots, not snowy yet, but frozen. 

Eddie’s going home today, got all his finals done by some spur of good luck that Richie really envies. They’re getting lunch together, no one else involved, a final attempt at resolution right before they spend a month apart and then maybe, finally things will be settled. The little cafe is empty, students likely burrowed in their rooms, studying frantically underneath heaping piles of blankets.

Something Richie would really like to be doing right now, instead of facing his problems head on.

“How was your jury?” Eddie asks when he sits down, already nursing a glass of water.

“It went really well, actually. I feel good about it.” He says. “How was English?”

“Super easy. It was just a timed essay, so kind of a nice change from testing.”

Richie hates this. The small talk, avoiding the subject. He wants Eddie to bring it up. He’s not the kind of person to address conflict, to willingly put awkwardness into the air and discuss it. But he’s considering it now, just to have it out of the way. He’s thankful when the waitress comes by to take his drink order, providing a momentary distraction from the awkwardness.

“Are you excited to go home?” Richie asks.

“Super excited. I have all my stuff packed, so I’ll just have to grab it from the room and then I’m gone. I’m sure you’re excited to have the room to yourself for a few days.”

“Unfortunately, I have scholarships to keep, so I can’t throw a rager at the moment. But it will be good for studying.” Richie says.

“It sucks you can’t leave until Thursday.”

“Yeah, well.” Richie shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“So…” Eddie says, and Richie perks up.

He knows he’s going to bring it up before he does, but it still makes his heart pound in his chest. Confrontation is not his strong suit, particularly when he’s the one who’s fucked everything up.

“Can we talk about everything that’s happened this semester?” Eddie asks, finally finishing his sentence.

Richie just nods, trying to catch the waitress’ eye so she’ll take their order and they can do this uninterrupted. She holds up a finger, but it only takes a second for her to make her way over. Once she’s gone, Eddie’s off.

“I’m sorry for jumping you and acting weird about it.” He says. “I’m not used to the casual sex thing, or casual making out, I guess. I wasn’t trying to be a tease or whatever, I just...don’t want to fuck up being friends. Which I did anyway, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“You didn’t fuck up being friends.” Richie says. “You just hurt my feelings.”

“Because I didn’t want to have sex with you?”

“Because you treated me like an object, maybe? Like a toy? I’m okay with some sort of mutually beneficial situation, but not at the expense of my pride. I can get sex, that’s not what I was pissed off about.” Richie didn’t even realize he was this angry, not until it’s pouring out of him. “You weren’t considering the fact that I’m a person with feelings, Eddie, and it was shitty.”

“I think saying I treat you like an object isn’t fair.” Eddie protests. “You’re the one always making jokes about fucking me. That’s where this all started.”

“I’m sorry you can’t take a joke?”

“Don’t give me that shit. You know it’s not always a joke.” Eddie rolls his eyes, and it would be cute if Richie weren’t so irritated with him. “You want me, or at least you did. And I acted on it, because you were too much of a coward.”

“A coward?” Richie laughs. “Are you going to challenge me to a duel?”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to have a serious conversation. You’re not funny.  _ Anyway,  _ I think we should either forget about it completely or just...give into it.”

Richie nearly chokes. “Give into it?”

“I think...we should just let it happen when it happens.”

“You’re joking. You just said you can’t do casual sex.”

“I thought maybe you could help me try.” Eddie says, and Richie’s turned on, like flipping a switch.

“I’m sorry I called you a tease.” Richie mumbles.

“Maybe I am.” Eddie says, all demure, and his foot brushes Richie’s ankle underneath the table. “Maybe I want to be.”

He’d upset him, that night, and Richie knows it. He may be kind of a dick, but he’s still receptive to people’s feelings. But here he is, embracing it and using it to fuck with Richie. It’s a real power move.

But games are for two players, and Richie’s on expert mode.

“I’ll show you teasing.” Richie says, leaning into the table. “I can tease. Until you fucking beg me for more. You’re needy, Eddie, don’t deny it.”

“Show me then, Richie.” Eddie says. “I didn’t try to deny it. The question isn’t whether or not I’m needy. It’s whether or not you can handle it.”

Richie flags the waitress down, snapping his fingers like a total asshole when she looks in his direction. He asks for to go boxes and their checks, suddenly (and for reasons totally unrelated to Eddie’s challenge) very ready to leave. 

“It’s so fucking cold.” Eddie says once they’re out on the sidewalk, like the spell is broken, back to his usual self. Richie wonders if he somehow managed to pass out and dream the last ten minutes.

“It is December.”

“Shut up.” Eddie says, walking faster.

Richie just trails behind, and they get back to the dorm in what must be record time.

“I have to leave in ten minutes.” Eddie says once they’re back in the room. “Or my mom will freak out.”

“Fine.” Richie says. “You said you have everything packed?”

Eddie nods.

“Perfect.” Richie says, grabbing him by the hips and yanking him forward.

Eddie throws himself at him, wrapping his arms tight behind his neck and kissing him. It’s so much better, this time, without consequence. Richie can just focus on this, on the way Eddie’s body feels pressed against his and how he sucks his lower lip hard between his teeth. Kissing Eddie is chaos, raw energy, and Richie is intoxicated.

Eddie’s the one to push him down onto his bed, and it catches Richie off guard but he goes with it, pulling Eddie on top of him and trying to make the most of a twin bed. Eddie straddles him, and it’s friction they haven’t gotten yet, not like this, and it feels delicious. Richie chokes back a groan, determined not to make the first sound.

Eddie’s leaning down to kiss him again, and Richie’s up on his elbows to meet him halfway, unwilling to lose even a second of this. He’s wanted it for so long, so bad, and he’s taking it. He sits up, pushing Eddie down underneath him and kissing at his neck, open-mouthed and sloppy.

“Don’t give me a hickey.” Eddie pants.

“Does it feel like I’m giving you a hickey?” Richie asks, rolling his eyes.

“I’m just saying!”

Richie wants to shut him up, so he goes back to kissing him. Eddie makes these little humming sounds against his lips, sweet vibrations that make him feel like he’s shivering. Is he shivering?

“Richie.” Eddie breathes when they pull apart, sounding so wrecked.  _ Looking  _ so wrecked, all messy hair and red-faced. Richie can’t believe this is happening, that he’s the one wrecking him. “I want you so bad.”

“What do you want?” Richie asks, pushing his hand up Eddie’s shirt, listening to the way he inhales, sharp and surprised.

“Touch me.” Eddie says, choking it out, almost like he’s begging. And Richie must have died, must be in Heaven, because there’s no way Eddie Kaspbrak is begging him to get a hand on his cock.

“Touch you?” Richie laughs against Eddie’s neck. “I’m going to  _ fuck  _ you.”

And then Eddie’s phone rings, and they both groan, loud and disappointed.

“Hey, mom.” Eddie says. “I know, I know. Lunch with Richie ran long, I’m loading up the car now. I’ll be home in a couple of hours.”

Richie sits on the bed, tuning out the conversation and focusing on the fact that this is finally fucking happening. Eddie’s off the phone in a few minutes, and Richie hopes he’ll be down to continue, but when he stands up it’s clearly over.

“I have to go, I’m sorry, she’s so crazy.” Eddie huffs. “Can you help me take my stuff to the car?”

“Yeah, of course.” Richie says, and he doesn’t even make fun of him when Eddie hands him the heavy suitcase. That’s called growth.

They get Eddie all set to leave, and Richie follows him around to the driver’s side. Eddie climbs in the car and Richie leans down to kiss him. It’s short, but frantic, and Richie wants so much more than he can have right now.

“Drive safe and have a good Christmas.” Richie says. “And I’m fucking the shit out of you when we get back from break.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Eddie snorts. “Good luck on your finals.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading this hot mess, i truly appreciate it


	5. you better throw the first punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie doesn’t want to admit that he’s waiting on him, but he is, unwilling to leave because he’s so eager to get Richie alone.

When Eddie gets back on campus, he has a spring in his step. He’s got his bags strapped over his shoulder and his dorm keys in hand, ready to be back for second semester. Christmas had been relatively uneventful, his mom begging him to call more, her sisters teasing her for her attachment. But he’d been thinking about Richie the whole time, about everything that had happened between them right before break, wishing he’d done it sooner.

He and Richie hadn’t talked very much, just a short conversation about Christmas gifts, so he’s buzzing with nervous energy, hoping that nothing’s changed between them just because they haven’t been existing in the same space within the last month.

On New Years, Richie had posted a Snapchat of him at a party, a girl hanging all over him and Bill, and Eddie isn’t sure whether or not it’s within his rights to be jealous, but he is. A little. 

When he walks in the room, it seems almost strange that everything looks the same. As if something massively different would have happened while they were gone. The fridge is plugged in, so Richie is definitely back on campus, but he isn’t in the room. Eddie starts unpacking.

He’s in the middle of restocking his fridge with new groceries (paid for, thankfully, by his clingy mother) when Richie shoves the door open, hair a little longer, but still tall and pale and painfully beautiful. Eddie is deeply considering throwing himself at him until he notices Stan lingering behind him in the doorway.

“You’re back!” Eddie says, too excited. He readjusts his tone, tries to stay measured. “I’ve been here for about ten minutes.”

“Yeah, we’re going to dinner.” Richie says, shrugging. 

The lack of an invitation somehow makes a sound, deafening in Eddie’s ears.

“Oh, cool.” Eddie says. “Have fun.”

It’s a lonely couple hours before Richie gets back. Eddie doesn’t want to admit that he’s waiting on him, but he is, unwilling to leave because he’s so eager to get Richie alone. If nothing’s going on with him and Stan, that is. Because that’s something that could have definitely happened. They had a whole month, Bill would probably help get them together, and Eddie can’t breathe. He psychs himself out effectively enough that when Richie comes back, he can’t hold it back.

“Are you and Stan a thing?” He demands.

“Uh...not even a little bit?” Richie says, looking confused. 

“Then why didn’t you invite me to dinner?” It sounds shrill, harsh, all wrong. This isn’t how Eddie imagined this going at all.

“How do I put this delicately?” Richie mutters, clearly making a show. “Oh, yes...Eddie, we’re not friends. We don’t hang out. It would’ve been weird for me to invite you.”

“What am I to you then?”

“A hot piece of ass.” Richie snorts.

“I’m serious.”

“Are you trying to be my boyfriend or something?”

“No, but being your friend would be cool. I’m not trying to  _ tie you down  _ or whatever, I just would like to be more than just someone you fuck.”

“Eddie, what the hell is this? Why are you fighting with me just because I didn’t ask you to come eat with me and Stan?”

And when he says it like that, it connects to Eddie that he sounds crazy. He has no reason to be pissed at Richie, not this time, and he’s making a scene over nothing.

“God.” Eddie groans. “I’m sorry. I just...thought I’d get back and we’d go at it, I guess.”

“Aw, you’re mad because you’re  _ horny _ .” Richie coos, and Eddie has never been so red in his life, never wanted to hit someone so badly in his life.

“I am not horny!” 

“You so are.” Richie laughs. “Damn, you spend two months ignoring me and now you’re throwing a hissy fit because I didn’t cancel all my plans to fuck you?”

“I just had expectations for how this would go!”

“You want this?” Richie asks, grabbing at his own dick, voice creeping downward into the register he tends to use when he’s talking to Eddie  _ that  _ way. “Do you want it, Eddie?”

“Don’t be a douchebag.” Eddie mumbles.

“I’m being serious, baby.” Richie says, and then he’s right in front of him, hands in his hair. “Do you want it?”

“Stop.” Eddie says, flustered.

Richie steps back. “Okay.”

“But don’t. Really, actually, don’t.”

“What’s it gonna be?” Richie asks. "I'm not doing anything until you ask me to."

“I want it, Richie.” Eddie says, finally, despite the embarrassment he feels actually saying it out loud. 

“Fuck yes.” Richie says, shoving Eddie down onto the bed.

 

When it’s over, there is that satisfaction of finally fulfilling an urge. It’s the first time Eddie’s felt like he’s satisfied this impulse, the one he’s had since he kissed Richie the first time.

It was good, as good as he expected, maybe even better. He’d expected Richie to be good at sex, but selfish, and that hadn’t really been the case. 

“So that happened.” Richie says, once he’s fully dressed again.

“Yeah.” Eddie agrees, uselessly.

“Well. Are we doing this now?”

“I guess so.”

“I’d appreciate some enthusiasm.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say about it.”

“Something more than ‘I guess so’. Was it good for you?”

“Yeah.” Eddie says. “It was.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” Richie says. 

And the conversation is over. Richie runs off to get high with Bill, and Eddie’s left alone in their room. He isn’t sure if this is for him, honestly, the whole idea of casual sex a little overwhelming. He likes connections, romance. This is much different than that. But he’s already decided it’s going to happen, sex with Richie that is, whether he plans on it or not. So he might as well give in and do it on his own terms, that way he isn’t fretting about making things weird afterward. So he’ll settle for this, the weird feeling he has now in his chest.

He can’t believe he’s feeling like this over Richie, of all people. Richie, who is verifiably a dick to everyone he knows. It’s not like he has a crush on him or anything, just maybe that he wants to be something more than sex and getting ditched for Bill’s shitty weed. He contemplates trying to make his own friends, but the only people he hangs out with are Bill and Stan, who are both definitively closer to Richie than they are to him. So he’ll just hang out alone for a while.

He falls asleep before Richie gets back, clutching at pillows and trying not to let himself feel sad.

 

His Monday classes end at 3, and Richie gets back from jazz rehearsal around the same time. Richie had still been in bed when he left, and when he came back for lunch, Richie was gone. So it’s their first time seeing each other all day, and the first time speaking since the events that transpired the night before.

Eddie’s sitting as his desk, trying to do some of his French workbook, but having a hard time focusing on the words.

“Wanna make out?” Richie asks as soon as he comes through the door. “I’m pissed off.”

“Maybe you should quit jazz if you’re always pissed after it.”

“I need it for my minor, so I can’t. So I’m going to have to settle for this.” Richie says, and he spins Eddie’s chair around, sliding into his lap. 

“Referring to it as settling really gets me off.” Eddie says flatly. “Please, tell me more about how mediocre this is for you.”

Richie just rolls his eyes. “You know I didn’t mean it that way. This brings me temporary happiness, quitting jazz would make it permanent, blah blah blah.”

“You’re surprisingly self-aware.”

“That’s why it works, babe.” Richie says.

“I would love to make out, but I’m trying to do French homework.”

“French me instead.”

“Yikes. Expected, but still gross. Hard pass.”

“Eddie.” Richie whines. “Come on.”

“What even happened? Have you ever thought about, like, talking about your problems?”

“This guy Anthony said I don’t deserve first chair and Timms just laughed like the total cock he is instead of defending me.”

“He obviously thinks you deserve first chair if he put you there.”

“Maybe he’s changed his mind.”

“I doubt it. Don’t you have homework to do?”

“It’s the first day of classes. How do you have homework to do?”

“I’m trying to get ahead.”

“And he admits this isn’t a necessary task.” Richie says,  _ aha  _ implied in his voice. “So let’s bone.”

“We started with making out.”

“You know where that would lead. You can’t resist this.”

“I can and I will.” Eddie says, turning back to his desk. Richie’s still in his lap, and it’s a significant effort to reach around him, but Eddie’s here for the dramatism of it. Until Richie starts kissing his neck, that is, and then he strongly considers dumping him onto the floor. Ultimately, he just lets it continue, knowing that will likely frustrate Richie more than a reaction would. Also, it feels good, and is just enough of a distraction.

“Boring.” Richie huffs, eventually, climbing out of Eddie’s lap. He collapses onto his bed, tapping furiously on his phone. “Do you want to get dinner with Bill?”

“When?”

“Five, probably.”

“Yeah sure.” Eddie says, trying desperately to sound casual when he’s secretly thrilled to be included. He still hates Richie a little bit, but it’s nice to have companionship.

“I’m probably gonna fuck Stan afterward, if that’s cool.” Richie says, and Eddie would honestly think he was being serious if not for the smile that breaks out on his face.

“You’re not funny!” Eddie says, voice pitchy.

“I think I’m pretty funny.” Richie says. “And you’re funny too, for thinking I’d fuck Stan when I have this waiting for me here.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Eddie says. He’s painfully aware that this is all happening because of convenience. 

“I’m not. You have to know that you’re, like, stupid hot.”

“You’re so full of shit, Richie.” Eddie says, turning back to his work.

“I am not.” Richie says.

Eddie just ignores him, keeps scribbling about his morning routine.

“Look at me.” Richie says, suddenly right in Eddie’s face. “You are the most attractive person who has ever been stupid enough to sleep with me. I am honestly honored every time you allow me to put my tongue in your mouth. If you were not so hot, I would not put up with all your bullshit.”

“Worst seduction ever.” Eddie says.

And if he blows Richie before they meet Bill for dinner, well, that’s no one’s business but his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quick update bc i'm writing this super fast right now! you can thank midterm studying procrastination.  
> tbh i'm nearing the end of this in my writing, so it's probably going to be, like, 9 or 10 chapters. If things go according to plan.  
> i deleted my tumblr, so leave a comment if you have any feedback/want to discuss something! this is my current pet project, so.


	6. just see how far it will bend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie’s living in a movie right now. There’s no other explanation for his streak of good luck.

Richie’s living in a movie right now. There’s no other explanation for his streak of good luck. He’s on top of the world in his music classes, thinking of swapping his major and minor, even. He’s actually doing well in his other classes, too, studying with Eddie some nights when they’re not fucking. Which, oh yeah, he’s also having sex with his roommate, who is verifiably the hottest person on campus. And, as the work of some sort of miracle, they’re getting along better than ever.

February is a dreary month. It rains most days, and the standing water lasts until the sun struggles through the clouds again, usually only drying up for a day or so before it returns. It’s also just far enough into the semester that the newness has worn off, which just makes it all the more surprising that Richie is still feeling pretty good about everything.

And, because it’s so cold outside, it’s freezing in the dorms. So he and Eddie sometimes catch themselves lingering in each other’s beds, not just sharing the space for sex but for doing homework, watching Netflix (Eddie’s got him hooked on Gossip Girl and Richie’s convinced him to watch Breaking Bad, so all is well), and sometimes just for sharing body heat on chilly mornings (or nights, or afternoons, or evenings). 

They’re watching some Netflix comedy, not great but good enough, on a night when they don’t have anything else to do when Eddie presses his cold feet to Richie’s calves and complains about being freezing.

“We could heat things up.” Richie says, raising an eyebrow. 

Eddie shakes his head. “We already had sex today. Can we just...cuddle?”

This is new. The vulnerability. They talked a week or so ago about being more open with each other after Eddie had (another) breakdown about the idea of Richie and this girl in his piano class. Richie tries not to worry about what will happen if he actually ends up meeting someone he likes. And ignores the part of him that thinks that he maybe already has.

Because when it comes down to it, they’re just using each other. So what if it’s gone beyond sex, it’s still just taking advantage of their constant proximity to each other. Richie still thinks Eddie is annoying, even if he’s cut down slightly on his irritating behavior. But it’s nice to have someone there, even when Eddie is having a panic attack anytime Richie brings up someone else’s name.

“And how do I know you’re not fucking him too?” Eddie had shrieked in mid-January, referring to Bill after Richie had made some stupid “Big Bill” joke.

“Maybe because we’ve been friends since we were infants and Bill seems to be straight so far.” Richie had responded, and the conversation had ended there.

But now Richie just nods, pulls Eddie in closer underneath his blankets. The movie is about an hour in, probably the halfway point, when he starts falling asleep. He just lets it happen, figuring Eddie or the movie will wake him up sometime before it ends.

Instead he wakes up hours later, screen long gone dark, with Eddie’s head on his chest. He’s fast asleep, lips parted in a way that would make Richie shove his fingers in between them if he wasn’t so tired. It’s been a long week, he decides, so he gives himself this. He closes the laptop as gently as he can, lowering it to the ground with one hand as he tries desperately to keep his other arm curled underneath Eddie’s shoulders.

Eddie’s eyes flutter open for just a second, closing again as he mumbles a weak “Shh.”

Richie laughs to himself, the idea of Eddie even shushing him in his sleep undeniably funny. And then he lets himself drift back to sleep, holding Eddie even tighter against him.

It’s awkward, of course, when they wake up. It’s Saturday, and the light filtering in through the window looks like it’s been snowing, and Eddie is jumping out of the bed like he has somewhere to be.

“What’s the rush?” Richie asks, trying to be nonchalant about the whole encounter.

“I have to meet with a professor.” Eddie says, pulling a sweater on over a long-sleeved undershirt. Always cold. 

“It’s Saturday.” 

“A study group, I mean.”

It’s such an obvious lie, but Richie just lets him go. There’s nothing he can do about it.

 

Bill’s got his face in a bong when Richie busts into his room, and he starts sputtering like it’s  _ unusual _ to come into your friends’ rooms unannounced. Once it’s clear he’s not going to throw up and they’ve both calmed down, Richie reaches for it automatically.

“Dude, I thought you were res life.” Bill says. “Could you maybe knock?”

“Could you maybe lock the door when you’re doing something illegal?” Richie asks before he exhales.

“Stan’s in the shower and I’m being considerate.”

“He’s in the shower at 4 PM?”

“He’s got a date.”

“My heart is crushed.”

“Shut up.” Bill says, rolling his eyes. “You’re already getting it from Eddie, you don’t need Stan.”

“I may not need, but I can still want, Billiam.”

“You’re so gross. I hate your guts. What do you want?”

“Advice.”

“As usual. Eddie?”

“What else could it be about?”

Richie’s in the middle of his explanation when Stan walks in, wrapped in a towel with his nose crinkled up.

“It smells like- oh.” He says. “Hi, Richie.”

“Jesus Christ, warn a guy before you come in naked and wet, Stan.” Richie says.

“This is my room.”

“And you have company!”

“That I had no way of knowing about.” He says, rifling around in his drawers. “Don’t peek, Richie.”

“I would never.” Richie says, turning back to Bill. “Anyway, then he freaked out this morning, and I know things are gonna be weird later.”

“God, Richie, I wish you’d just tell him you like him.”

“I don’t!”

“You totally do. I know what Richie in love looks like. And this is it, down to the last detail.”

“How?”

“Maybe that you fell asleep with him And you’re not freaking out about it like he is?”

“Sex makes you tired, Bill! I’m not sure you would know that, you fucking virgin.”

“I’m not a virgin.” Bill says, at the same time Stan says “Virginity is not an insult.”

“Stan, if you tell me you’re a virgin right now, I just might cum in my pants.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Stan says, dryly. “I am not. I just thought I’d defend Bill if he really were.”

“He’s being a dick.” Bill clarifies. “He knows I’m not.”

“Can we get back to Richie, please?” Richie demands.

“When you admit you like Eddie, then we will.”

“Cool, cool. Guess that discussion’s over, then, because I do  _ not  _ like Eddie.” Richie insists. “Who’s got the pleasure of taking you out tonight, Stanny?”

“Do you know Mike Hanlon?” Stan asks, and he must be into him, if he’s actually willing to give Richie his name. “He works in the library.”

“No, but Eddie probably does. He works at the tutoring center in the basement, so I’m sure they’ve crossed paths.”

“Bringing Eddie up again.” Bill says, taking another hit as Stan protests, yelling about the smell on his clothes. “Interesting.”

“It’s a fucking common tie, asshole.” Richie huffs. “If you didn’t have weed, I’d be storming the fuck out right now.”

“Fine, fine.” Bill says. “If you’re not into Eddie, then prove it.”

“How?” 

“Come to the Sigma party tonight and fuck someone else.”

“I don’t know about that.” Richie says, thinking of Eddie’s jealous outbursts. 

“See? You like him.”

Then again, Eddie has no claim to him. They’ve never even established not to sleep with other people. For all Richie knows, Eddie’s out fucking other guys during the day. “You know what? Fine. I’ll do it.”

“This is a bad idea.” Stan mumbles.

“You wanna be my other man, Stan?” Richie asks.

“I have a date with someone respectable, so that’s a hard no.”

“Man, you’re not pulling any punches today.”

“I’m worried about what this is going to do to Eddie.” Stan says, suddenly serious. “But play your stupid game, boys.”

He leaves after that, and Bill and Richie continue pre-gaming.

 

Richie’s high has already worn off by the time the party starts, so he’s ready to put out his A game. He knows he’s lucky when he runs into Nora, a girl from his psych class that he’s admittedly been sneaking glances at for a few weeks now. They’ve been working in a study group together, so it’s almost perfect.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He says, sliding up to her group of friends.

“What a cheesy line.” She says, and it’s so  _ on. _

“What would you have used?” He asks.

“Something more creative than that.” She says, and she takes a sip of her drink. “You want me to try?”

“By all means.”

“Alright. How about this one?” She says, adopting a look on her face not unlike what Richie imagines his Seduction Expression looks like. “Are you Richard? Because I’ve been looking for dick all day.”

“God!” He laughs, genuinely taken aback. “That’s just as cheesy! I’ll give you points for my name, though.”

“That’s still not good enough for you?”

“You’re going to have to try a little harder, I guess.”

“Let’s try this one.” She says, and then she’s pressing her chest against his, hands on his neck, and kissing him. In front of  _ everyone.  _ She pulls back with a smirk on her face. “That good enough for you?”

“More than good enough.” He says. “You wanna find a room?”

“You don’t live too far, right?” She asks, fingers in his hair, playing with it. “Let’s go to yours. That’s a lot more private.”

“I don’t know about that.” He says, thinking of Eddie, who’s probably having a quiet night in.

“C’mon.” She says. 

“My roommate-” Richie starts, but she’s kissing his ear, and he’s getting a little distracted. He’s tied up in this, about to agree when he hears an icy voice behind him.

“Your roommate  _ what _ ?” Eddie asks.

“Eddie!” He says, instinctively stepping away from her. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Very original.” Nora says.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie asks.

Richie has no idea who to explain himself to first. He knows he could probably salvage this thing with Nora, but Eddie is more important. So he takes a bullet.

“Sorry, Nora. I’m responsible for this little man here, so I’ve gotta postpone our date.”

“Consider it cancelled.” She says. “See you in psych.”

“Eddie-” Richie starts, but he’s already stomping away.

“You know how I feel about you fucking other people.”

“Nothing was happening!” He says, subtracting the  _ yet  _ he tacks on mentally.

“That’s not what it looked like.” 

“Can you stop and listen to me?”

“I really don’t want to.”

“How am I supposed to know this isn’t allowed? It’s not like we’ve ever talked about it.”

“We totally have.”

“You yelling at me for hookups that didn’t even happen doesn’t count.”

“But it should give you some indication for how I feel, shouldn’t it?”

“Eddie, you don’t own me.”

Eddie freezes at that, turning to face Richie in the middle of this crowded frat party. Half the school must be here, and word gets around, but Richie can’t bring himself to care. 

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” Eddie asks, voice shrill. “I never tried to.”

“It sure seems like you are now.”

“Sorry I don’t want you running around hooking up with God knows who, getting God knows what to give to me.” Eddie snaps. “Sorry that sex is important to me. You  _ asked  _ for this.”

“I didn’t ask for shit, Eddie. You’re the one that arranged this whole fucked up relationship.”

“I made the best of my circumstances. You’re lucky I let you do anything to me, you fucking asshole.”

“You sound like such a prick right now.” Richie huffs. “You’re not better than me. I know you think you are; you’ve made that very obvious. But you aren’t.  _ You’re  _ the one that initiated this. I joked about fucking you, like I do with every single one of my friends, and you took me up on the offer. That is on you.”

“I’m not apologizing to you. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“What a joke. You’re the one that ran off this morning with the most pitiful excuse I’ve ever heard just because we fell asleep in the same bed. You want me to fuck you and only you like you’re my boyfriend or something, but the second it gets even a little bit more serious than sex, you’re freaking out. I don’t know what you want.”

“I don’t fucking want you, that’s for sure.”

Richie fucking gasps, like this is some stupid eighties movie. “You want to know something, Eddie?”

“What?”

“I’ve had a fucking crush on you, all this time. I’ve put up with you being an annoying little fuck, put up with you screaming at me for hooking up with people I’ve never even touched, all because I thought, maybe, if I dicked you down hard enough that you’d fall for me. And I’m admitting it now because any feelings I had for you are fucking gone.”

“Really nice, Richie. That’s really romantic.” Eddie says.

Richie’s fucking crying, on top of it all. Eddie’s glaring at him, all steel, and Richie’s a mess. He wants to sit down on the floor in this dirty ass living room and give up, and Eddie is completely unaffected.

“Go fuck yourself.” Eddie says, finally, and disappears.

Richie leaves after that, crying on the streets in the middle of February, trying desperately to make it to Bill’s room. He knocks on the door after what seems like an eternity in the cold, and at first there’s no answer. He’s about ready to give up, sleep right out there in the hall, when a bleary-eyed Stan comes to his rescue.

“Oh, Richie.” Stan sighs, completely genuine. “You fucking moron. I’m going to murder Bill when he gets back. Come in.”

“How was your date?” Richie sniffles. “You get l-lucky?”

He’s choking on his words, trying desperately to restore his Funny Guy persona, but it’s no use. Stan’s already seen him broken.

“It was really good.” Stan says, softly. “But I don’t want to talk about that right now. What’s going on?”

Richie tells him the whole story, nailing the conversation word for word. Eddie’s part is going to be replaying in his head all night, he’s sure, so it isn’t hard.

“Everything’s going to be okay.” Stan says, and he pulls Richie into him. “I promise. You’re a moron, but this isn’t completely your fault. Let me talk to Eddie.”

Stan reaches for his phone, and Richie knocks it out of his hand. 

“No!” He shrieks. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“You’re going to have to eventually.” Stan sighs. “But we’ll let it go for tonight. You can sleep with me if you sleep on the other end.”

“Okay.” Richie says, feeling weak and tired, suddenly wiped and probably dehydrated.

Stan makes him drink some water, gives him a cookie, (triple chocolate, one of the good ones from Subway) and they fall asleep, head to foot like it’s a sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another quick update bc the comments just made me so excited that i couldn't wait to post this!!!!  
> this should honestly keep up at about the pace i've been posting, meaning it will probably be finished in the next week or so. i can't believe how attached i've gotten to writing this.  
> thank you for comments & kind words & i'm sorry for any emotional distress


	7. like the ocean in the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finals are only two months away, and then he can sign up to room with someone else and get the fuck out of here.

In a word, Eddie feels empty. Bill and Stan aren’t talking to him, Richie spends more nights in their room than with Eddie, and he’s officially alone. He doesn’t really understand why the blame for this one got pegged on him, especially when Richie’s the one who was kissing someone else. And maybe they didn’t discuss that exact scenario, but Richie should’ve gotten the message. The rare times that Richie’s even in the room, he’s got headphones in, blasting music so loud that even Eddie can hear it.

Today’s flavor seems to be Queen of the Stone Age, a band Eddie would know jack shit about if not for Richie. And he’s just hearing  _ nicotinevaliumvicodinmarijuanaecstasyandalcohol  _ over and over, and if keeps up he’s going to lose his shit.

“Can you turn that the fuck down?” Eddie snaps, breaking the unofficial vow of silence established after the frat party incident.

“No.” Richie says, not even bothering to take the headphones off. “I’m doing homework. I need it to focus.”

“I don’t know how you can focus with it turned up to ear-shattering.”

“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?”

Eddie talked to their R.A. a week ago about switching rooms, but when he’d asked for a reason, Eddie had blanked.

_ We’ve been fucking and I caught him kissing someone else and now we hate each other  _ doesn’t quite roll off the tongue. So Eddie had just fed him a stupid excuse about Richie being messy.

“You need to work it out.” He had said. “Just talk to him.”

Yeah, whatever. So they’re riding this out. Finals are only two months away, and then he can sign up to room with someone else and get the fuck out of here. He’s been hanging out with this guy at the library when they work late, Mike, and he thinks he could have a shot at rooming with him. 

Mike’s also been his only confidant. He’d made the mistake of saying he didn’t know Richie, and after that Eddie had filled him on the whole story.

Nights at the library are usually lonely, aside from the stray request to stock the printers or whatever, so they have lots of time to talk. Eddie’s grateful for it, but he’s sure Mike isn’t as happy. 

He’s also borderline failing his music appreciation class, something that he’d signed up for with Richie’s help in mind. So that plan’s fucked, and so is his GPA if he doesn’t start hearing the difference between homophony and polyphony right the fuck now.

Richie finishes up whatever he’s doing and leaves. Eddie knows from the old days that this is a jazz band day. He wonders who Richie’s taking his horny frustrations out on afterwards now, then decides he doesn’t care, but he really fucking does. 

Eddie does feel guilty, a little, especially when he’s alone. He knows he was definitely the more aggressive one during their conversation that night, but it had just been so jarring to see Richie wrapped up in someone else when he thought they had an agreement. It plays over and over in his mind, some nights, seeing Richie attached to  _ Nora,  _ an  _ exercise science  _ major, like, we get it, you play tennis. 

And he wasn’t jealous or whatever, just completely betrayed and shattered by Richie’s gall. Maybe jealous is a good word for that. Eddie hasn’t been truly clear on his feelings, not since Richie slid inside him for the first time. He’d been gentle, sweet, everything he is when he’s not brash and abrasive and  _ Richie.  _ Like a totally different guy.

If Richie were always that guy, then maybe he’d love Richie. The way that Richie had apparently loved him. But if Richie really had a thing for him, then he had a weird way of showing it. That doesn’t stop him from entertaining the  _ what if _ s though, thinking of a world in which they’d met and started dating like normal fucking people.

And, to be honest, he misses the sex. Eddie’s never been that into it, he’s only had sex with a few people, but it had been something next level with Richie. They’d been totally in sync, at least sexually, with Richie practically predicting all of Eddie’s wants and needs, and that had been one of the hottest things about it. So it’s not like he can just go out and have sex with somebody else and move on, because a) that’s not his thing and b) it won’t be nearly as good as Richie was for him.

So it’s been about a month, and he’s shocked to see a text from Bill when he comes up for air from his music app studying (Or, as he privately calls it,  _ think about Richie time _ )

_ We need to talk to you. Our room, asap. _

And Eddie’s dreading it, but he craves companionship to the point  that he’s willing to sit there and let Bill and Stan tag team him about his dumbassery. So he puts on his shoes and he walks to their dorm, even stopping to get coffee for the three of them as a sort of olive branch.

“I know I fucked up.” Eddie says as soon as he walks through the door. “Just please tell me how to fix it.”

“Richie is a sensitive boy.” Bill says. “Underneath the whole disgusting exterior he has going on. Just apologize to him.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Eddie protests.

“Yes, you did.” Stan says. “You definitely did. Richie kissed someone else, an act that you didn’t explicitly forbid. You insulted him publicly and made him look like a dick.”

“He  _ cried  _ at a  _ frat party _ .” Bill adds. “Embarrassing as hell.”

“And then I had to pick up the pieces.” Stan says. “So believe me when I say that this is at least partially your fault. Richie is an idiot, and I started that night thinking he was going to hurt you, but that was stupid of me. Richie was obsessed with you. There was no way he’d come out of it painlessly.”

“He hurt me, too.” Eddie says, softly. He knows they’re right, but he’s going to fight like hell to keep from apologizing. This is not his fault, he keeps saying, even though his resolve is wearing thinner by the minute.

“Your feelings are valid.” Stan says. “But that doesn’t exempt you from your own fuck ups.”

“You could have had a normal conversation with him, and you instead chose to embarrass and abandon him at a party. Not exactly the reasoning of a kind, vulnerable soul.” Bill adds.

“No one is saying you have to be in love with him and kiss him on the mouth and make love to him every day-” Stan starts.

“Gross.” Bill interjects.

“ _ But  _ if you want even a shot of being friends with him, you’re going to have to apologize.”

“Your input is appreciated.” Eddie says. “But maybe I don’t want to be friends with him. Maybe I just want my normal life back.”

“I  _ know  _ you want to be friends with him because you told Mike Hanlon, library assistant and my current boyfriend, so you can drop that act.” Stan says. “I also know a  _ number  _ of things you’ve said about Richie’s body that I’m sure Bill would be thrilled to hear, if you want to keep feeding me bullshit.”

“Please don’t.” Bill says.

“You didn’t tell Richie, did you?” Eddie asks.

“No, because I’m a good person, and I think it’s things you need to tell him yourself.” Stan says. “Besides, after all the times Richie’s hit on me, I could never talk to him about his ‘thick cock’ to his face.”

Eddie and Bill scream at the same time, both indignant, but for entirely different reasons.

“Stop!” Eddie shrieks.

“That was your warning. Go fix this shit or I’m pulling out what Mike calls the ‘Thigh Monologues.’”

Fucking Mike Hanlon, traitor to library workers. It gets Eddie’s ass in gear, though, and he’s at Astor before he even fully recognizes what he’s about to do, waiting outside the doors to the auditorium where the jazz band rehearses. The door’s cracked, and he can’t resist peeking inside. Richie’s standing, getting ready to play his solo, and Eddie’s heart thuds just a little faster in his chest.

Richie starts, and it’s beautiful, the sound swells to fill the auditorium, spilling out into the lobby and echoing in a way that makes Eddie gasp out loud. He knew that Richie was good, had amassed that much from talking about chair placements and audition pieces, but he had no idea that he was  _ this  _ good. He’s hitting high notes that Eddie assumes must be difficult, because he’s never heard them come from a trumpet before. And just as quickly as it began, he sits down, red-faced but clearly satisfied.

The song finishes with a loud chord by the whole band that echoes off the walls, and after that, they’re dismissed. Eddie takes a seat on one of the benches, digging his nails into his palms as he waits. Richie’s one of the last to come out, talking intensely with a guy holding a clarinet case. He notices Eddie mid-sentence, and cuts himself off to address him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

The guy with the clarinet keeps moving, clearly not wanting to be a part of this.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Eddie says, finally swallowing his pride.

“Cute.” Richie says. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you’ll go get dinner with me? And we can talk? I’ll pay.”

“Well….” Richie says.

A girl runs out and jumps on his back before he can finish, wrapping her legs tight around his waist. “Are we still on tonight?”

“Uh…” Richie says, looking at Eddie. “I can’t tonight, actually. Sorry Jessica. Reschedule maybe?”

“Ugh.” She says, pouting as she jumps down. “You always get busy when we’re supposed to be getting busy.”

Richie shrugs at Eddie apologetically. “I’ve got important roommate business to attend to, darling.”

“I get it.” She says. “Have a good night. And practice the second piece, you suck.”

She runs off with that, leaving Richie and Eddie finally alone.

“Anywhere you want.” Eddie says. “That isn’t ridiculously expensive.”

“Pizza, my good man.” Richie says. “The answer is always pizza.”

Fifteen minutes later, they’re settled into a corner booth at Vivaldi’s, a pizza place on Main Street. Eddie had parallel parked, which is really a testament to how badly he wants Richie to forgive him.

“So, you fucked your roommate and it didn’t work out as well as you thought.” Richie says. “What’s next?”

“Hopefully his forgiveness.”

“Oh, no worries Spaghetti Man. You got that with the pizza.”

“Was it really that easy?”

“All I wanted was an apology.” Richie says, and the silence afterwards is deafening. Finally, after at least three bites, Richie speaks again. “And I guess I should say I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?” Eddie asks. He has some idea, but he’s going to make Richie work for this. If he got over himself enough to say he’s sorry, then Richie will too.

“For kissing Nora. And being a dick to you in general, I guess.”

“So what now?” Eddie asks, absently stirring his drink with his straw.

“Let’s just be roommates. And friends, if you want.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Eddie says. “I heard your solo, also.”

“Ugh.” Richie groans. “Don’t even tell me what you thought about it.”

“It was really good. I don’t know a lot about music, but I liked the way it sounded.”

 

They still do a lot of the same things they were doing before, just minus the benefits. Richie doesn’t occasionally buy him coffees anymore, and Eddie’s okay with that. They still watch Netflix together, sometimes even in the same bed, but no longer laying down next to each other, and always under separate blankets. 

And Eddie’s shocked to find out that Richie, when he isn’t using you for sex, is normal. Sometimes even nice. 

“We’re totally finishing Gossip Girl together, what happened between us be damned.” Richie says one day when he and Eddie are walking back from Astor together. “I need to know what happens after Blair and Chuck sleep together.”

“A whole lot of bullshit, I’ll tell you that much.” Eddie says, and conversation is easygoing, less charged with the awful energy they’ve had for so long. 

It’s also nice to be able to just talk in the room again, to muse out loud or complain or rejoice, and to be there to listen to Richie when he’s doing the same, instead of just having either angry sex or happy sex.

“So is something going on with you and Jessica?” Eddie asks day, absently, in the middle of cleaning out his desk. 

“I don’t know.” Richie says. “We get along and everything, but...I don’t know if she’s really my type. Like we’re having a lot of fun, but I don’t think we’re in the kind of relationship that’s built to last. I’m just gonna see how far it goes and when she asks about it, let her define it, probably.”

“I think you should be more proactive about it. If you like her, I mean.” Eddie says, and he’s sort of in disbelief that he’s giving Richie advice about this, encouraging him to run off with someone else.

“I just don’t know if I like her  _ that  _ much. And I’m holding out, a little.”

“Why?”

“I’m hoping something else is in the cards.” Richie shrugs. “Doubt it’ll work out, but I can dream. I’m gonna give it a shot until the semester’s over, and then give up if it’s not happening by then.”

“That’s a very frank way of looking at things.”

“Sometimes you have to give yourself deadlines for your feelings.” Richie says. “You can’t waste away trying to make something happen if it’s not going to.”

Eddie realizes, in that moment, that Richie has been hurt. This is not the outlook of someone who hasn’t suffered. Richie has experienced, might even be well-versed in, sadness. And that’s the most humanizing thing that Eddie could have found out.

“You shouldn’t give up on that, then. And maybe you should ditch Jessica. There’s no reason to string her along, and you’re probably giving this person the wrong idea.”

“I don’t know.” Richie says again. “I think they know my deal with Jessica. And I think she’s down for this, just hanging out and stuff.”

“Just hanging out and stuff didn’t work out so well the last time you tried it.” Eddie says, risking an argument, but he has to make his point.

“Yeah, but I was a dick. It was mostly my fault.” Richie says. There’s a long pause before he continues. “If you ever want to talk about it, we can. I know I was fucked up to you.”

“I wasn’t very nice, either.” Eddie says. “Not in the end, at least.”

“Yeah, but, you know. I didn’t cultivate a healthy thing between us. It’s not your fault that you had to fight back.”

“We don’t have to place blame for it.” Eddie says. “It’s over, we’re friends, you’re not so much of an insufferable douchebag.”

Richie gets a little smile on his face after that, shaking his head as Eddie continues cleaning. And there’s something about it that nips at Eddie, but he pushes past it to finish up the conversation.

“If you really like this person, the one you’re holding out for,” Eddie says. “Leave Jessica. I mean it. If they know about the situation, it’ll mean a lot to them that you gave up on meaningless sex. Something that we all know is one of your favorite pastimes.”

“I’ll think about it.” Richie says. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm working on the next chapter, but there might be a bit of a wait bc midterms are over and i am somehow, inexplicably busier than i was before them but it will be up soon!  
> lmk what y'all think, as always. also, after this series is over i'm thinking of like writing some oneshots here and there for this universe, glimpses into life as richie and eddie, or of the other losers, (bev and ben do exist in this universe! they have been/will be mentioned, they just don't play a huge role in this particular story) is that something y'all would be interested in?  
> another q: i have a playlist for this that i write to & listen to for inspo and i can also share that if anyone would want it?


	8. i know the sound of your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, Richie.” Eddie says, and it’s his tone that tips him off immediately, the fucking pity, so much worse than being yelled at.

Richie, of course, is holding out for Eddie. He was hoping that would come across in their conversation, but he clearly forgets how oblivious Eddie can be, especially when he doesn’t want to see the truth. But he’s doing it right this time, friendship first, getting to know him before he tries to use sex as a bridge to a relationship.

Being with Eddie made his whole life feel different. It gave him someone to look forward to seeing, someone to hold him accountable, a study partner, and not to mention damn good sex. Now things just feel...bleak, with this cloud hanging over them that no one can fix, not Nora or Jessica or even Stan, if he would take Richie up on his offer. 

He knows it’s wrong to keep Jessica on the backburner, but that’s not his exact intention. He’s hoping Eddie will like, fall and hit his head and wake up in love with him, conveniently forgetting about all the times he’s been a dick. But since that’s unlikely to happen, he’s hanging out with her. He probably could love her, the way he feels about Eddie, but it would take some time.

A hell of a lot more time than it took for him to fall for Eddie, when he became amused by his theatrics rather than repulsed, realized that his nagging equaled caring, but it could happen. But only if he knows that things with Eddie will never, ever happen.

“Give up.” Bill had advised him, in typical blunt fashion. “You fucked up your relationship, and he’s not going to ever fully forgive you for what you did.”

“But what did I do?” Richie had asked, genuinely confused. Beside general boorish behavior, something he thought he could very well come back from, it’s not like he’d done anything to Eddie.

“You know what you did.” Bill had said, simple and ominous, before he took a big swig of whiskey and rendered himself useless.

“I think you should see it through.” Stan had intervened after Bill had stumbled off to find the nearest frat party. “You didn’t give it a real shot. Show him who you really are, Richie. I know you can be a good person.”

And, fuck, Richie’s been trying. He’s made himself present to Eddie, spends more time in their room with hopes of seeing him, takes him to get food at least twice a week, (Separate checks, though, of course. He doesn’t want to scare him off again.) and is helping him with music appreciation, despite how mind-numbing it is to try and explain to music to someone who isn’t as musically inclined as he is. But it’s all worth it, he hopes. If it doesn’t work, then being friends with Eddie isn’t a bad second place prize.

But all this is just his thought process as he weaves through the eternally confusing Warren Hall to find Jessica’s room. He can’t believe he’s about to do this, but if it’s what Eddie would want, then it’s what Richie is going to do.

“Hey!” She answers. “I wasn’t really expecting you, so.”

She gestures to her sweatpants apologetically, and steps aside. “Do you want to come in? Bev is at an art show or something.”

“Just for a minute.” Richie says. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“Wow, I’m nervous.” She laughs, and Richie hopes she isn’t thinking he’s going to try and make things official. The last thing he needs is to hurt someone else, especially when he’s trying to do the right thing.

“So, I have...feelings for someone.” He starts, hoping that an explanation might numb whatever anger she might feel from this conversation. “Someone that I’m really, really into. And it’s been brought to my attention that, uh, this whole  _ thing  _ we have might be confusing to that person and-”

“You’re not, like, breaking up with me, are you?” Jessica asks, cocking her head to the side. “Because we’re not together.”

“Jesus, okay. I just thought I’d do the gentlemanly thing instead of fucking ghosting you.”

“Richie Tozier, if you think I have any expectations for you, you are wrong. You’re pretty notorious for fucking and leaving, so. I’d be delusional if I thought I was any different.”

“That hurts a little bit to hear, but I guess it’s valid.”

“Believe me, I didn’t expect anything significant from this. Sure, you’re hot, and super talented, and really funny when you’re not trying so hard to be, but you are a hot fucking mess.”

None of this is new to Richie, but it’s something awful to hear it from someone he intended to dump. To hurt, to leave. And now here she is, ripping him apart. The worst part is that he knows he deserves so much worse. Listening to her openly criticize him is getting off easy in this scenario.

“I think I’ve had about enough of this, thank you.” Richie says. “Your point is made and I’ve given you my part of the speech, so I’m just going to collect my pride’s remains and go.”

“Friends though, right, Richie?”

“Of course.”

And when he gets to the door, she calls out “And tell your roommate you’re in love with him.” and Richie marvels at how Eddie’s obliviousness rivals his transparency.

 

They’re having dinner together that night, one of their roommate dates that isn’t a date, but Richie mentally refers to it as such when he’s thinking about them on his own. It’s one of those cold March days, so Eddie agrees that instead of going out, they should probably just order in and watch a movie. So he’s got a movie on, but they’re not really watching it, just talking.

“I aced this music quiz today, thank you, thank you, thank you.” Eddie’s saying, and it’s cute how excited he gets about this. “You’re literally my savior.”

“It’s no problem. You just needed a better teacher. I told you Timms is a dick.”

“So I’m learning.” Eddie says. “What did you do today?”

“I ended things with Jessica.” Richie says.

“Was she upset?” Eddie asks.

“Nah.” Richie takes a moment, carefully considering his next words. “She actually told me I should tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Eddie asks, confused, eyebrows furrowed inwards. God, so cute. 

“That I ended things with her because I...am into you.”

“Oh, Richie.” Eddie says, and it’s his tone that tips him off immediately, the fucking pity, so much worse than being yelled at.

“I thought we were past this.” Eddie continues, making things worse. He flashes back to the night Eddie screamed at him, and he’d felt so small, so stupid. He never wanted to experience anything like that again. But he’d take it now, over and over and over, if Eddie would stop looking at him with big eyes and a concerned frown, like he’s someone to worry about.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on, in any way-” Eddie starts.

“Stop.” Richie says. “God, just stop. Tell me no. That’s all I need. You didn’t lead me on, I just hoped...it’s not a big deal. My feelings for you aren’t a big deal. I’m just going to go hang out at Bill’s. I’ll be back…later.”

He speed walks down the hall and out the door, wishing he could’ve convinced Bill to stay in Astor with him the year before, if only to make things like this easier.

“Dude, it’s freshman housing.” Bill had said. “No way am I staying in that hellhole. And Stan wouldn’t say yes even if I asked.”

“But it’s connected to the music building!” Richie protested.

“And I’m not a music major.”

“I’m not either.”

“ _ Or  _ a music minor.”

But at the time, he didn’t know that this would even be an issue, the breakdowns and running to Bill’s room in tears through frigid weather. Eddie Kaspbrak had just been a name on a page, one that he was content not to meet until the next school year when they had to live together. How could he have known it would turn out this way?

For once, Bill is there without Stan, in sweats and holding a to-go cup of coffee. 

“Dude, I’m studying.” Bill says. “I can’t smoke right now.”

“I don’t want to smoke.” Richie snaps. “And you can totally study high, but that’s beside the point. I told Eddie.”

“You didn’t.” Bill says.

“I did, and he obviously was not into it. I don’t know why I even fucking thought that he would be. I’ve just been so nice, and I’ve tried so hard.”

“He doesn’t owe you anything, Richie.” Bill says, stepping aside to let Richie in the room. “You were shitty to him. You’re lucky he even wants to be friends with you. A few weeks of making nice isn’t going to make the guy fall for you.”

“I just thought....maybe he liked me all along, and now that I’m not being a dick, maybe I’m boyfriend material.”

Bill laughs. “Richie, you will never be boyfriend material. Even if Eddie fell in love with you, somehow, over the course of a month, it would be because he loves that you’re a hot fucking mess. Not because you’re boyfriend material.”

“Anyway, my point is that I need somewhere to sleep.”

“You’re not moving in here like you did last month.”

“I’m not. Just for tonight. Please?”

“It’s good with me. Just be quiet while I study for a little bit.”

“No problem.” Richie says, plugging his headphones in and trying to get lost in the music, listening to instrumentals, focusing on the trumpet, the strings, anything but what just happened. But the music is plucky and delicate, starts soft and crescendos loud like Eddie. Now he’s even seeing it in music  _ without  _ words, a new low. So he huffs to himself and switches to Netflix, picking back up on American Vandal after a three month leave.

“That show is so stupid.” Eddie had said when he walked in on Richie watching it once, a mean little glint in his eye. Trying to start something, to get Richie to react. It was a game Richie had grown used to, Eddie provoking him instead of asking directly for sex. It drove him crazy, and not necessarily in a good way.

“I think it’s cool.” Richie shrugged. He didn’t even like the show enough to defend it by fucking Eddie into his comforter, so this was not the road to getting him to do that. But Eddie was clearly not giving up.

“Like, the whole fake documentary thing is so lame. It didn’t work for The Office, it won’t work for some stupid dick drawing show.”

The Office was a point of contention in their room. Richie loved it; Eddie thought it was boring. But it wasn’t something Eddie hated enough to bring up without a motive.

“If you want to have sex, just say so.” Richie had replied, sick of the smoke and mirrors act.

“I’m allowed to have an opinion without secretly wanting to have sex with you.”

“I know that, but can you honestly tell me that’s what’s going on here?”

“No.” Eddie had said, and pounced, closing Richie’s laptop in the middle of episode three, only to be forgotten until Eddie’s broken his heart for the second time.

Everything in his life carries some piece of his thing with Eddie, some little reminder of how he’s probably damaged their relationship permanently this time, and he can only hope that Stan and Mike room together next year so he can take Bill.

“You wanna talk?” Bill says, finally, after Richie’s made it through two episodes and his studying is apparently finished.

“I don’t know.” Richie says. 

Bill just lets them sink into silence, and Richie thinks that this might be what he needed anyway. Eventually, Bill speaks again. 

“I think you should go back to your room and deal with this like a man.”

“And I think I’d rather hide out here until Eddie forgets I confessed to being in love with him.”

“That definitely won’t happen, so you might as well go talk to him now.” Bill says. “You’re just showing him how immature you can be when you run off every time there’s a confrontation, and that’s not exactly the kind of thing people like in a boyfriend.”

“I know you’re right, but I feel so shitty. Can we get high?”

“If you really want to.” Bill says, but Richie knows he’s excited. “Do you care if I invite some other people?”

“As long as Eddie isn’t one of them, go nuts.”

In the end, it’s Richie and Bill, Stan and Mike, and then some redheaded girl Richie vaguely recognizes, with another boy in tow. Bill doesn’t look too thrilled when the guy follows her inside, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Ben’s my DD.” She says. 

“You’re always welcome to stay here.” Bill offers.

“And always welcome to a ride home.” Ben says, steely.

This is clearly a problem that’s been established already, with the way the two guys are glaring at each other. And the Ben guy is hot, thick where Bill is thin, tan where Bill is pale. It’s like yin and yang, and they’re clearly standing off to see who this girl likes better.

“Beverly, this is Richie.” Stan says, trying to diffuse the tension. “He’s the worst, but we love him anyway.”

“Oh, I know you!” Beverly says, laughing. “You were hooking up with my roommate.”

“I am sorry to say that I don’t remember you.” Richie says. “And I feel like I would remember a face like yours.”

Bill and Ben have a bonding moment when they share a look of betrayal, and Richie just smiles big. He doesn’t mean it. Well, he does, but he wouldn't throw his hat into this ring. She might be smoking hot, but he’s not going to fight two other guys to get in with her, one of them being his best friend. Even he has morals.

“I walked in on you guys once and she’s pointed you out before. You wouldn’t remember because we haven’t been formally introduced.”

“I hope she hasn’t made you hate me.”

“No, just convinced me that you’re a total moron.”

“A fair judgement, really.” Richie says. 

“Who wants weed?” Bill says, fidgety, the definition of uncomfortable when the spotlight is no longer on him. 

“You’re speaking my language, William.” Beverly says, and she hops into bed with him. 

Richie doesn’t miss the smug smile Bill flashes at Ben, and he can’t wait for the shitshow that is sure to follow.

Even Stan partakes, and Richie is shocked. They’re all just sitting around, the way you usually do when high in a large group. No one’s suggested watching Planet Earth, so Richie knows he’s in good company. 

“So, basically, I think everyone has three things that summarize what’s most important to them.” Stan says, the end of a long rant about his own hierarchy of needs or something. “Like mine is Mike, school, and birds.”

“Permission to call your boyfriend cute please, Michael.” Richie says.

“Permission granted.” Mike snorts.

“Stan, that was so fucking cute. Okay, next. Mike, what’s yours?”

“Stan, obviously. And books. History.”

“Fuckin’ nerd.” Richie says.

“Alright then, what’s yours?” Mike asks.

“I don’t have three. Just music and marijuana.” He says, pronouncing it with an h, hoping it will get a laugh.

“I know what your third is.” Bill says. 

“Don’t.” Richie says, and it’s like he loses the high immediately, just from those words. 

“Music, weed, and Eddie Kaspbrak. That’s Richie’s Holy Trinity.”

“Eddie wouldn’t even make the top ten.” Richie huffs. “Stop talking about him.”

“Where is Eddie?” Mike asks.

“Not invited.” Stan says, quietly.

The mood is shot, all fun forgotten. Richie feels betrayed by Bill, whose too caught up in trying to bone Beverly to even notice that Richie’s feelings are hurt. This Ben guy has an expression on his face that probably mirrors Richie’s when he found out Eddie didn’t like him back. Stan and Mike are adorable, but it’s really only adding insult to injury at this point.

“Oh, shit.” Mike says. “I did not get the memo. I texted him like ten minutes ago.”

“Fuck.” Richie groans. This was supposed to be mindless fun, not just another awkward run-in with Eddie where he’s forced to explain himself.

“He texted back and said he’s on his way.” Mike says, finally.

They don’t talk much until Eddie comes in, just Bill murmuring close in Beverly’s ear. Richie tries to strike up a conversation with Ben, get a feel for where he stands on the spectrum, but he’s reading pretty straight so far. 

But then Eddie walks through the door, and he’s all that’s on Richie’s mind. He hasn’t felt like this in ages, sick at his stomach at the idea of even looking in his direction. But unfortunately, Eddie marches right up to him.

“I hope you’re something close to fucking sober.” Eddie scolds, a fire in his eye that Richie hasn’t seen in a couple months. “Because we are having a talk about this. Let’s go for a walk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY this took so long ive been so busy. probably one more chapter. maybe two if things get wild.  
> thank you for being on this ride w/ me yall


	9. dying for another taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does he have feelings for Richie? Maybe.

Eddie isn’t mad, he’s just not letting Richie fuck up their living situation yet again. He’s tired of having a roommate who runs off to sleep in other rooms almost every night of the week, and he’s tired of having Richie let his emotions ruin what could be a half-decent roommate arrangement. They may have had their issues, but they get along, neither of them have any weird allergies, and they’ve never argued about anything that has to do with their actual living situation. They  _ just  _ signed up for housing, to room together again, and Eddie is not going to spend another whole ass year like this.

Does he have feelings for Richie? Maybe. It’s unclear. But those are possibilities that might not need explored right now, not when he’s recovering from Richie hurting him the first few times and Richie is apparently learning how to care for someone for the first time in his life, if the sudden confession of love is anything to go by.

So he insists they go for a walk. They end up at Astor without exchanging a word, and finally, Richie turns to him.

“Have you ever been on the clock tower roof?”

That wasn’t the question Eddie had been expecting, but he’ll take it over the silence. “No, I don’t know how to get up there.”

“You go through the music building. Wanna do it?”

Eddie nods, even though his teeth are chattering and it’ll probably be even colder up there. Anything to get Richie somewhere he can’t run away.

It’s a convoluted way, that involves crawling past the windows to the drum room and climbing a ladder up an elevator shaft. Richie assures him that it’s okay. Eddie either believes him or he’s lost the ability to care.

“I want to talk about what happened.” Eddie says once they’re sitting up by the bell, cross-legged and trying to avoid the puddles from yesterday’s rain.

“What is there to say?”

“That there’s nothing wrong with having feelings.”

“It’s just embarrassing. You don’t have to lecture me about it, I know it’s okay. It just sucks to get rejected.”

“I hadn’t even rejected you yet.”

“You were headed that way.”

Eddie can’t deny that. “Richie, it’s been a hard year for us.”

“Fucking tell me about it.”

“Last year we didn’t even know each other. Isn’t that crazy?”

“We’d probably be better off if it stayed that way.”

“There’s no way you actually believe that.”

“All we’ve done is fuck each other up.”

“And helped each other grow.” It sounds lame, Eddie can acknowledge that even when he’s saying it, but it’s true. 

“You’ve honestly ruined my life.” Richie laughs. “Everything was fine before you. I was all good just making music and getting high, fucking people sometimes, the usual college experience. The day you kissed me the first time, it felt...it was life-changing, almost. You’re killing me, Eddie.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m trying to be romantic. But really. I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve always given up. I can’t give up on you. Not unless you really want me to.”

“It would be selfish of me to make you wait while I figure things out.”

“Maybe. But I’ll do it.” Richie says. 

The view is gorgeous, Eddie will admit that. They can look down on the reflecting pool, the dorms at Astor, the event hall that separates the girls from the boys. He forgets how beautiful Astor is, at least from the outside, has started to take living in a castle for granted

He’s also forgotten how gorgeous Richie is, he realizes, when he turns to look at him. Even his profile is enough to take Eddie’s breath (which is already shallow, either from the climb or the altitude) away. Sloping nose, that wild hair, neck long and elegant. Tempting, always. The unsuspecting attractiveness that got them into this mess to begin with. It’s a creeping feeling, the one that started this and comes back now, a nudging attraction that has blossomed angrily into desire, rage, jealousy.

“Richie, can I kiss you?” Eddie asks.

“God, please.”

“Even if it might not mean anything?”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

Richie’s leaned back, bracing himself on his hands. So Eddie has to crawl in close, awkwardly on his knees as he angles his lips to touch Richie’s. As soon as they meet, Richie sits up, curls his hands around Eddie’s waist, kissing him soft and slow. 

“Don’t give up on me.” Eddie whispers, shakily, breaking the kiss for just a moment.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Richie says, voice low, unintentionally seductive as usual.

They’re interrupted by drunken giggling, heads popping out from the elevator ladder. First Bill, then the redheaded girl from his dorm. 

“Sorry, didn’t know you guys were up here.” Bill says, flushed, looking pleased with himself.

“No problem, Billy boy. I think we were just about to head home.”

“Be careful going down.” The girl advises. “Someone dropped a bottle towards the bottom. I almost cut my leg on the glass.”

Richie just nods, and Eddie struggles to keep up once he starts shimmying down the ladder. Once they’re on the cobblestone path back to their side of the dorms, Richie’s talking, finally out of earshot of any eavesdroppers.

“Don’t tell me this doesn’t mean anything to you.” Richie says. “I know what it felt like, before, when we were kissing and it didn’t mean anything. And this wasn’t like that.”

Eddie’s close to tears, even though he doesn’t want to be. “I can’t say it doesn’t mean anything. But I don’t know what it means.”

“That’s a start.” Richie says. 

“You deserve more than this.”

“I want you. And if this is all you can give me right now, I’ll take it.”

When they get back to their room, Richie grabs his shower bag and promises he’ll be back. 

“I’m not running off to Bill’s this time.”

“You better not. I mean it.”

Eddie crawls into Richie’s bed without thinking much about it. He’s half-asleep when Richie sinks in with him, tucking him underneath his arm.

“Is this okay?” Richie asks.

Eddie just nods, and he’s asleep in no time, Richie’s breathing like white noise in his ear.

 

He blinks awake slow, a little confused about the weight against his side, and it takes him a moment to realize that he’s in Richie’s arms. He takes a deep breath, determined to coach himself through this instead of letting his flight reflex kick in. He extracts himself carefully, turning off his alarm as quickly as he can. Richie must wake up sometime while he’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth, because he’s sitting up when he gets back in the room.

“Wild night, huh?” Richie chuckles, an easy smile across his face.

Moments like this make Eddie think that he might be easy to love. Bedhead, a big grin, and faded marks from the pillow across his cheek. Dreamy, quiet, serene.

“I guess so.” Eddie says softly. 

“You want to talk about anything?”

“I think we talked about enough.” Eddie says. “Now I just have to think.”

“Can I make a closing statement?”

“I guess so.” Eddie says.

“I’m sorry. For how shitty I’ve been. You shook up my whole world, and I acted like a little bitch. But I’m ready for it now. To try for real, I mean. And to be a better person. I would do almost anything to convince you that I can be a good thing for you.”

“I can’t give you an answer right now.”

“I didn’t expect you to.” He says, and he’s sincere, no sarcasm or anger behind the words. Just understanding.

“I promise I’ll figure this out. Soon.”

“Take all the time you need.”

“I’d understand if you gave up on me. We could just be friends.”

Richie shakes his head. “I told you, I’m not giving up until you tell me I have no chance.”

“Then we can talk about this again later.” Eddie says. “What are you doing today?”

“I have a dress rehearsal for our jazz concert.” Richie says. “But that’s really it. I’m skipping sociology because I don’t want to go and we’ve been talking about the same thing all week, and I got it on Monday.”

“When’s the concert?” Eddie asks, feeling a little guilty because this is something he should know. Richie talks about jazz band all the time, usually in a negative way, but Eddie has noticed him getting a little more excited about it lately.

“Tomorrow night.” Richie says. “So it’s all details now.”

“Want to get breakfast?” Eddie asks. “I don’t have class until noon.”

“I think I’ll pass on this one.” Richie says. “I’m giving you that time to think, and I’m planning on just getting coffee and hauling ass to a practice room. I’ve gotta get these solos perfect.”

“Have fun.” Eddie says, and Richie’s gone.

When he gets to the dining hall, Stan is sitting alone with a book in front of him, plate stacked full of fruit and a single piece of bread.

“Are you busy?” Eddie asks, coming up with a bowl of cereal, virtually the only thing left after nine. “Or can I sit here?”

“I’m not really busy, and you can sit here.” Stan says, and Eddie slides in on the other side of the booth. “How did everything go last night?”

“Okay, I guess. We talked.”

“And…?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to figure some things out. And I’m trying to make sure Richie’s going to keep his promises.”

“I don’t think he’d lie to you.”

“Not on purpose, maybe.”

“It’s really not my business, so I’ll keep quiet on this. I don’t want to sway you or anything. Just don’t break his heart too badly. I’d like to limit his overnight visits to our room.”

“Are you going to his jazz concert tomorrow?”

“I was planning on it.”

“Save me a seat there.”

After breakfast and a couple of classes, Eddie locks himself in their room, thinking of Richie isolating himself from the world until he masters music. Eddie’s isolation is just so he can wrangle his thoughts, straighten this out once and for all, so he can give Richie a real answer.

On the one hand, Richie has been less than great at all of this. He’s been callous, mean, he’s lied about his feelings, and treated Eddie like a sex toy, basically, but...Eddie can’t help but feel like in a way, that’s a mutual fault.

He was the one, after all, that took their relationship to the next level with no prior conversation about rules or regulations. He’d never established, really, that he didn’t want Richie to sleep with other people, just (unfairly) gotten angry with him whenever he thought it was happening. And he realizes, now, that it never did. Richie never slept with anyone else, not while they were hooking up. He kissed Nora, sure, but if didn’t even think to outlaw sex outside their arrangement, kissing was definitely not on that list.

And Richie has been good to him, overall, dealing with his complaining and hypocrisy, well before they started having sex with each other. He probably deserves a second chance, at least a date, something. 

Eddie wants it, too. So badly. Richie is someone who has been bad for him, but he’s right, he could be  _ so _ good. Richie balances him out, soft curves to hard edges, relaxed where he is stressed, someone he could come home to and forget about everything else. He’s beautiful, probably exactly Eddie’s type, and his faults don’t drive Eddie crazy, which is saying a lot.

So he’s pretty sure. And he knows what he needs to do, but it’s going to make the next twenty-four hours unbearable. 

Seeing Richie again is the worst of it, when he finally stumbles in from his last rehearsal, flushed with happiness for once. Eddie’s trying to get some homework done, even though it’s a Friday night, and it’s an unwanted interruption. Especially when he’s trying so hard to hold back and do this the right way.

“You’re invited to the concert, by the way.” Richie says. “I’m sure that goes without saying. But I’d like it if you would come.”

“Maybe.” Eddie says, trying to be cavalier about it. He’s going for sure, but he isn’t sure if he wants Richie to know that yet. Partially because he wants the benefit of a surprise, and partially because he feels like he’s lost his nerve.

“I’m going to a party with Bill tonight if you want to come.” Richie adds. “We’re celebrating finishing up a year of Timm’s bullshit.”

“I’ll be okay here, I think. Should you be partying the night before a concert?”

“It’s not until seven tomorrow night. That’s plenty of time to sleep in, bang some Ibuprofen, and get some greasy ass food. And I might not drink. Bill needs a watchful eye, on occasion.”

“Have fun. You deserve it.”

“You got it, Edward.” Richie says, and he’s gone just as quickly as he appeared.

The hours without him are fine, despite Eddie’s overwhelming thoughts, and he manages to get some work done and to watch half of a movie before he’s jolted awake by the door opening again.

Richie clearly thinks he’s asleep, because he’s tiptoeing around, gathering the stuff he needs to take a shower before he’s out the door again.

When he comes back ten minutes later, Eddie’s in his bed. Cuddling isn’t necessarily breaking normal roommate procedure, and by this time tomorrow, Eddie’s going to fix this. 

“What a cute little surprise I have.” Richie says, not drunk, but tipsy at least. “I could get used to this.”

He climbs in with Eddie, smelling like spearmint. Maybe soap, maybe toothpaste, Eddie doesn’t care. It’s the best thing he’s ever smelled, and he’s giving into sleep long before he can really figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i decided on one more chapter, because i want to end the story in richie's perspective. thank you for reading, this has been a lot of fun to write.


	10. better off as lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s hoping Eddie will show up tonight, but simultaneously trying not to get his hopes up, because shattered expectations don’t usually result in a stellar performance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is smut in this chapter. just to let you know here in case you're not into that. it's vaguely plot relevant, but could probably be skipped.

Richie wakes up feeling good. Eddie’s gone, but he left a little sticky note on the mirror telling Richie to break a leg, and Richie’s not even hungover. So all in all, it’s nothing short of a miraculous morning. He has a very short list of things to do before the concert, and he almost wishes he could just go back to bed until that night before his nerves get the best of him.

He gets breakfast with Bill at Waffle House, and Bill is not as well off as he is.

“How much did you drink last night?” Richie asks, amused. “You’ve gotta tone it down.”

“I didn’t drink that much.”

“Just can’t hang, I guess.”

“Lay off. Bev blew me off for Ben last night.”

“So you turn to the bottle. How country song of you.”

“None of us made fun of you when Eddie turned your ass down.”

“Except you totally did the other night, you massive dick, so pipe down. There will be other girls.”

“Not like her.” Bill groans.

“Then quit fucking drinking and do something about it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You have zero impulse control, and everything just works out for you all the time.”

“I’ve been through hell trying to fix this thing with Eddie, don’t act like I just waved a magic wand.” Richie says, stealing a piece of his bacon. “Don’t blame me because things aren’t working out for you.”

“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” Bill says. 

“Maybe you should move on. If she’s into Ben, then you can’t really do anything about it.”

“I guess.”

“Come on, Denbrough, throw me a bone here.” Richie sighs. “I can’t help unless you want to be helped.”

“I don’t know if I do.” Bill shrugs. “Maybe it’s better just to be in love with her and wallow.”

“Bill, come on. You can move on from this.” Richie pauses. “Did you sleep with her?”

“That’s hardly any of your business.” Bill says, but his ears are getting red, Richie knows the answer is yes.

“Maybe you have a chance then. You’re giving up too easy.”

“We can’t all pine like you do, Richie.”

“If you really loved her, you’d wait.” Richie says, and he can’t help how smug he feels. He is waiting like that for Eddie, doing something Bill can’t. It’s just satisfying, knowing that he’s doing something right.

“I don’t know if she wants me to.”

“Give her an ultimatum.”

“Because that doesn’t scare people off.”

“But it’s better than sharing her with Ben, isn’t it? I’m sure she doesn’t realize either of you want to be exclusive. She doesn’t seem like the type to lead you on, and I doubt she’s doing any of this intentionally.”

“I don’t want to fuck anything up, though. She’s a good friend.”

“Sometimes it’s worth the risk.” Richie shrugs. “And if you’ve already had sex without making shit weird, this probably won’t make it weird either. Ask her.”

“You’ve been a lot nicer since Eddie dumped your ass.”

“I guess you could call it a wake up call.” Richie says, throwing some cash down on the table to tip. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Absolutely.” Bill says. “I’m going straight to Beverly, too. I’m gonna ask her.”

When they get back to the dorms, Bill chickens out, lighting up instead. Richie, for once, is glad not to be high. He’s got a concert to do, and a very special guest in attendance, so he’s not going to fuck it up.

Which is why he starts getting ready right after he drops Bill off, despite it being about three hours to call time. He spends an hour of it practicing, getting it out of the way early so his lips aren’t still sore when it’s time to do this. Then he pulls his clothes on, concert black, and he likes the way he looks like this. He switches his glasses for contacts, trying to prevent the stage light glare he seems to always have in the corner of his eye, and he hauls his backpack over his shoulder and heads to the auditorium.

He just sits backstage and works on some theory homework, forcing himself to pay careful attention, not wanting his mind to wander. He’s hoping Eddie will show up tonight, but simultaneously trying  _ not  _ to get his hopes up, because shattered expectations don’t usually result in a stellar performance.

When he’s onstage, it’s all he can do to keep from shaking. He watches the auditorium fill up, Bill and Stan sliding into the second row from the front, close enough that he could probably whisper to them. Beverly shows up closer to curtain call, taking the seat next to Bill, and Mike eventually shows up too. 

He’s given up on the idea, shifted his focus to music, when Eddie comes in. It’s five minutes until the performance, and he settles in next to Mike. He looks good, a little dressed up, in a button up and some dark jeans. Richie can appreciate it, both his effort and the way it looks on him. But then Dr. Timms is taking the podium, and he has to rearrange his music and get ready to play his fucking face off. He does manage though, right as Timms raises his baton, to wink in Eddie’s direction. He sees Eddie blush right as he plays the first note, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

The performance itself is a blur, Richie flies through his solos without a thought, and when he stands up for applause, it looks like Eddie is clapping the loudest. It’s a short concert, but feels like he’s played an entire suite. As Dr. Timms gives the closing speech, he’s buzzing underneath his skin, ready to see what Eddie thought about the whole thing.

“These guys have worked so, so hard this year for this.” He says, finally. “And they’ll be in the lobby shortly after the performance, in case you have any questions.”

Richie feels like he flies offstage, and Eddie is waiting for him out in the lobby. 

“What’d you think?” He asks, trying to sound humble. He knows it was fucking good, it was definitely his best runthrough of the music, and he’s pretty proud of it.

“It was great.” Eddie says. “I wish I knew more about music. But you’re amazing. Your solos were my favorite part. And I think a lot of people’s.”

“Thanks.” Richie says, and he smiles, this big, goofy smile that he knows he couldn’t fight if he tried.

There’s a thick silence between them, then, and Eddie finally breaks it by rocking forward and kissing him. He throws his arms around Richie’s neck, pulling himself up closer. Richie wraps his free arm around the small of his back, helping him up to kiss him harder. He wants to be chaste, keep it classy, but he feels totally out of control. Eddie’s  _ wild  _ like this, kissing him fast and urgent, like he needs it to live. And Richie can hear someone behind him yelling about holding the trumpet with one hand, all “both hands on your instrument, please!” but he couldn’t give a fuck, having Eddie like this is worth thousands of dollars in repairs.

It’s getting raunchy, honestly, with Eddie pressed flush against him. Eddie’s fingers are playing with his hair where it meets his collar, and he’s trying desperately to introduce his tongue to the equation when Richie finally pushes him off.

“I want you.” Eddie says, direct as ever. “Just you. And I want you to want just me.”

“You got it.” Richie says, not even needing a second to think about. “I’m all yours.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. As long as you want me.”

The vibe in the air is undeniably a little awkward, mostly because people were definitely paying attention to the whole display. But Richie’s only concern is how fast he can put his trumpet away and get his hands back on Eddie.

“See you back in the room?” Richie asks, trying to find the strength to wait that long. If he had his way, he’d take Eddie right here, in front of everyone. 

Eddie just nods, pink at the neck, looking a little embarrassed. “See you.”

Richie fumbles with the case despite having done this a million times, and when he finally gets it clasped shut, he’s sprinting back to their room. He has texts from Bill and Stan, seemingly congratulatory, but he just throws his phone on the desk as soon as he gets inside.

Eddie’s waiting for him, shirt half-buttoned and sitting on the bed.

“Not just sex.” Eddie says firmly when Richie grabs him by the shoulders. 

“Never again.” Richie says, shaking his head frantically. “Not with you.”

“Okay.” Eddie breathes. “Okay.”

Eddie starts at the buttons on Richie’s shirt, leaving it on but open, hanging off his shoulders. 

“You looked so beautiful.” Eddie whispers, a look in his eye that’s almost reverent. “If I hadn’t been convinced before, I would be now.”

“Eddie.” Richie sighs, at a loss for words for once. 

Eddie just pushes him down onto the bed, climbs on top of him and starts kissing his collarbones. Richie closes his eyes, still in vague disbelief. 

“Can’t believe you’re even real.” Richie says, and Eddie’s getting lower, lips sloppy against Richie’s chest, his ribs, his stomach. His hands tangle with Richie’s belt, but he slides it out easy, letting it clatter to the floor. He’s slow, methodical as he unbuttons Richie’s pants, kissing the skin it reveals. It’s not like before, when they’d undress themselves and race to finish before a chemistry exam or whatever. It’s so much better, tension and anticipation building and Richie’s in sweet agony, wanting Eddie so bad. 

When Eddie unzips his pants he sits up to help get them off, kicking them to the floor. Before Eddie can get back to his crotch, he unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way, lets it fall off his shoulders and onto the bed. Richie lets him back in his lap, but doesn’t lay back down, bringing Eddie in instead to kiss him. It’s a continuation of the kiss from the concert, like a movie unpaused in the middle of the climax, and Eddie’s alternating between biting at his bottom lip and rolling his tongue over it. He grabs a handful of Eddie’s ass, his head getting heavy. It’s hazy, pure desire, so concentrated in this one kiss. Eddie groans when he squeezes again, and grinds his crotch down against Richie’s. 

“Oh, God.” Richie huffs, buries his face in Eddie’s neck and starts biting. Not screaming about hickies for once, Eddie’s still rolling down against him, Richie shoves his hand down his jeans, wrapping a hand around his cock through the fabric of his underwear. Eddie inhales, sharp, a choked noise somewhere in the back of his throat.

“You’re perfect.” Richie mumbles into his throat. “So fucking perfect. Take your jeans off for me?”

Eddie stands up to slide them off, and when he climbs on top of Richie again, the friction is almost too much. Richie arches up experimentally, and Eddie makes a soft sound in response. 

“What do you want?” Richie asks, thrusting up against him again just to hear that noise.

“I want you.” Eddie says, a little breathless. “Fuck me, please.”

Richie doesn’t have to hear that twice. He must prep Eddie in record time. He’s missed this, sliding deep inside Eddie where he’s so tight and warm. He goes slow, taking his sweet time to enjoy this, to map out every spot that makes Eddie shudder and moan. Eddie’s practically limp underneath him, back arched and this broken  _ look  _ on his face that Richie can’t stare at for too long without feeling like he’s going to come.

It can’t last long, Richie knows that much, because he’s losing it as soon as Eddie tightens up around him. He knows he must be close, so he just thrusts in harder, hoping to push him over the edge. 

“I love you.” Eddie breathes. “I fucking love you.”

“I love you.” Richie says, and he’s  _ really  _ trying not to cry right now. It’s all so much, Eddie’s words and the way he’s getting tighter and Richie’s so close, added together it’s all just so  _ intense,  _ and Richie can feel the tears building up, threatening to spill over onto Eddie’s bare chest.

“I’m gonna come.” Eddie says, and it’s a huge weight off Richie’s shoulders. Richie firms up his hand on Eddie’s cock, tries to jerk him faster. Eddie’s just making these little noises, harsh breaths punctuated by a high-pitched whine, and then he goes still. Richie fucks him through it, coming  _ hard  _ when Eddie shoves fingers in his mouth, grounding him deep in the moment and letting him focus as it breaks and washes over him. He can hear himself, moaning low, can feel his face getting wet, but can’t bring himself to care as he gets wrecked by this orgasm.

Richie pulls out slow, and Eddie excuses himself to take a shower. Richie’s sitting on the bed when he comes back, feeling like his breathing is still unsteady. 

“Are we doing this?” Richie asks softly. “For real this time?”

“We’re doing this.” Eddie confirms. “For real.”

“Thank you for another chance.” Richie says. “I’m sorry about-”

Eddie holds up a hand. “Don’t thank me, and don’t apologize. Just don’t fuck it up this time.”

“Yes, sir.” Richie laughs, and then he’s reaching for Eddie, yanking him down into the bed and wrapping him up in his arms.

It’s been a long year with Eddie, a hard one. But as it comes to an end, Richie feels like everything has worked out for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter to wrap things up  
> thank u for coming along on this ride w/ me. i know this story isnt perfect, but i have had so much fun telling it.


End file.
